


the ballad of paul and linda

by lovelyflowersinherhair



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 1960s, Adultery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheating, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Internalized Homophobia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Pregnancy, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26642203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyflowersinherhair/pseuds/lovelyflowersinherhair
Summary: [1967. Cavendish Avenue.]"C’mon, Lin. Let’s make a baby.”Paul gets Linda pregnant on accident -- but also on purpose -- and then meets Heather and marries Linda. They become one big happy family.
Relationships: Brian Epstein/John Lennon, Cynthia Lennon/John Lennon, George Harrison & John Lennon & Paul McCartney & Ringo Starr, Heather Louise McCartney & Linda McCartney, Heather Louise McCartney & Paul McCartney, Linda McCartney/Paul McCartney, Maureen Cox/Ringo Starr, Pattie Boyd/George Harrison
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

“How much longer do you have to stay?” Linda asked Paul, thoroughly bored out of her mind. She didn’t know what she’d anticipated when she’d decided to photograph the Beatles, but it had not been this. It was almost as if the four men were viewing the launch party as an imposition. Paul had gotten them to pose for her, and she’d gotten some really good photographs, but the rest of the party? It was shaping up to be a drag. “Paul?”

“I dunno,” he told her, and he looped an arm around her shoulders. He held a drink in his hand. “Honestly, y’know, we can go home if you want. I’m sure that Brian’ll understand.” 

He nodded in the direction of the Beatles’ manager, who was hovering over by John’s elbow, clearly trying to get his attention. John seemed to be ignoring him, however. 

“Will he?” Linda asked him. “Is he all right?” 

Paul shrugged. “He’s meant to be in hospital,” he said after a moment. “He’s treating it more like a fancy hotel. How’s Heather?” 

“What?” 

“Heather,” he repeated. He took a sip of his drink. “That’s her name, isn’t it? Your little girl?” 

Linda had asked Paul for permission to call Heather before they’d left for the launch party, and he hadn’t had a problem with it. She was surprised that he’d cared enough to remember Heather’s name. Most men didn’t. 

“You remembered?” 

“Of course I remembered,” he said, and she could hear a layer of hurt in his tone. “She’s yours, isn’t she?” 

“Yeah, she’s mine.” She felt his arm tighten around her. “Do you really want to know?” 

“Well, I reckoned that she’s yours, so she’d be a part of my life,” he said softly, his voice barely audible. “That is, unless you’ve decided that I’m not worth your time anymore. I’ve been told that I’m a perpetual disappointment.” 

Linda sighed. She had run into Paul at the Bag o Nails, and had promptly discovered that he had been dumped by his long-time girlfriend due to what Paul thought was a disagreement about whether or not they were going to raise children, but Linda herself thought had more to do with the fact that she had caught him in bed with another woman, and they’d managed to fall into bed together. 

Linda was used to falling into bed with men, even famous ones, but she wasn’t used to waking up the next morning to see that Paul was still in bed beside her, soundly asleep. Typically, Linda’s paramours would be nowhere to be found the next morning, even though she rarely brought them home to her. They’d sooner escape their own homes than admit who they’d slept with. Linda suspected that it made sense -- she too would have been unhappy to have breakfast with her latest fling’s brother and sister-in-law -- but the rejections still wore on her. Yes, Linda lived in the fancy apartment on the Upper East Side. It just happened to be her brother’s. Linda had gotten pregnant, Mel had rejected her, and her father had ordered her out of his house. Oh, sure, not in those words, but the meaning had been clear. 

Linda was sure that Lee’s intent had been to get her to find out where Mel had gone and follow him there, but her brother had taken her into his apartment, and taken Heather in as his own, and they’d never really left. There had been little need to. 

What kind of life would she have provided for Heather on her Town and Country salary without John’s help? A terrible one, and Linda knew that. She was idealistic, yes, but she wasn’t naive. 

Paul had been different, though. He’d been there when she’d woken up, and he’d even taken the time to make her some sort of breakfast, even though his cooking skills -- and the food in his house -- left a lot to be desired. Linda wasn’t sure if his empty cupboards were because he was never home, or if they were because he never ate. 

He hadn’t even balked when she’d told him that she was a single mother. 

So, in a moment of impulsiveness, she had proposed that he come to America with her. 

He had agreed. 

“You’re not a perpetual disappointment,” she whispered soothingly. “I wouldn’t take what Jane said to you to heart--”

“She didn’t say that,” Paul muttered. “Her mum did.” 

“I see,” she sighed. “I don’t think that she meant it, not how you think that she did. I think she was upset that Jane caught you...well, y’know. I would be too.” 

“She was like a mum to me,” he whispered. “It’s daft, I know that, but she was.” 

“I don’t think that it’s daft. I just think that her daughter came first,” she said, in what she hoped was a gentle tone. “You have to realise that your behaviour, it hurt Jane. Not only were you cheating on her but you were trying to get her to take up a role that it seems she didn’t want to. Being a mom, it’s hard, Paul. I wanted to be Heather’s mom, and that was my decision to make. Even when that decision meant that she’d never have a father…” She trailed off. “My point is that no matter how much Mrs. Asher loved you, it was the right thing to do to put Jane first. You might not understand now, but you will when you’re a dad, and your daughter comes home one day and tells you that her boyfriend broke her heart.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m telling you, you’ll understand--”

“No, not about that,” he interjected. “I was wondering why you thought Heather’d never have a dad.”

“Her biological father can’t stand me,” she said after a moment. “After I told him that I was going through with the pregnancy and keeping her, he ran away to Africa, to go study rocks. When I had her, my brother and father tried to contact him and he told them that he didn’t know me...and he certainly didn’t lay claim to her.” 

“Does it need to be biological?” Paul asked her. “Wait,” he continued. “We ought to not talk about this here. Why don’t we go into Brian’s bedroom?” 

“Shouldn’t we ask him first?” 

Linda didn’t know what Paul didn’t want to talk about in mixed company, but she allowed him to lead her away from the launch party and up a flight of stairs. They headed down the hallway until they were in front of a closed door, and he opened it up and beckoned her inside. 

Brian’s bedroom was rather ornate. It also looked entirely untouched. 

There were untouched bedrooms in John and Jodie’s apartment, but they didn’t have the level of disuse that Brian’s currently active master bedroom had managed to develop. Not only because the domestic wouldn’t have let such things stand -- there was a layer of what appeared to be dust coating the king-sized bed in the middle of the room, and there were uncapped bottles of prescribed medications dotting the bedside table. She heard Paul let out an audible sigh as he took in the state of the bedroom. 

“Oh,” Paul murmured. “Brian doesn’t sleep. He takes pills. That’s why it looks like this.” 

Linda bit back the sigh that she wanted to let escape. “Okay, and you know that that isn’t healthy, right?” 

He shrugged. “I guess. I don’t do pills, anyways.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Linda elaborated. She ran her hand down the side of his face. “I meant that, if you’re wanting to do what you were saying you wanted to do downstairs, you need to sober up. I don’t want you being Heather’s dad if you’re on cocaine.” 

He scrubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “What’s the big deal? John drops acid around Julian.” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“He does!” Paul lit up a smoke. “I told him that I thought it wasn’t on, y’know, but he said that it’s good for the kids, y’know?” 

“What’s ‘good for the kids’?” Linda asked. She dreaded the answer. “Paul?” 

“John told me that it was good for the kids to understand that people needed to take medications to feel better,” he told her. “I know that acid’s not a traditional medication, but he insists that it helps him! And he doesn’t understand why Cyn doesn’t want Julian to know.” 

“Because he’s doing LSD!” Linda exclaimed, unable to hide the shock in her tone. “That’s not smoking a joint, Paul. That’s serious!”

“I thought it a bit of a drag myself,” he told her. “I dunno why he takes it every day.” 

“Every day?” Linda echoed. “You’re exaggerating.” 

“If I am, it’s not by much,” he shrugged. “When we were working on the record, he almost jumped off the roof.” 

“You need to stop listening to him,” she settled on. “That is terrible, Paul! Every day!”

“What’s the big deal about cocaine?” He asked her. He met her gaze for a moment, before he became fixated on the rug they were stood on. “I mean, you’re her mum, Lin. I won’t do it around her if you think it’s bad for her.” 

“It’s bad for you!” She insisted. “Paul, you have to know that cocaine isn’t healthy. I get trying it out,” she admitted. “But you’re dependent on it -- I won’t have someone who’s a coke addict raising my daughter with me! It’s not only because of Heather. I don’t want her around cocaine, yes, but I’m worried about you!”

“What do you have to worry about me for?” Paul demanded. His tone was rough. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” 

“You can’t see it.” Linda sighed. She took a sip of her drink. “Paul, you’ve changed since the last time we saw each other, and it has to be the cocaine. You’ve lost so much weight, you’re moody and irrational, and you barely sleep. You had to buy groceries so I could eat when I decided to stay with you!” 

“I did buy them, though,” he pointed out. 

“Yeah,” she allowed. “You did.” 

“Look, maybe it has changed me. If you want me to stop to be in Heather’s life, well, I will.” 

“What?” 

He lit another cigarette. “I mean it,” he said. “I just thought that it was fun, y’know. And it was at first.” 

“And now?” 

“Now?” Paul laughed, though it was rather bitter. “Well, you know how it goes. Jane dumped me and all of our friends managed to land on her side, and have you noticed that everyone that I work with is giving me a wide berth? I’ve developed a bit of a reputation at the studio.” 

“I think that coming to New York will be healthy for you,” Linda admitted. “I don’t think that London is a very healthy environment for you. Even if we remove the cocaine from the equation…”

“What would I do in New York?” 

“Well, you’d stay with us, of course,” she told him. It was as simple as that. Paul needed to be properly minded, and she could use the help with Heather. “Since the cocaine wouldn’t be coming with us, I have no issues with you being around Heather.” 

“I wouldn’t have used it ‘round her,” he mumbled. “I know that it makes me unpleasant to be around.” 

“You said it, not me.” She squeezed his hand. “At least you’re not on LSD.” 

“I thought about it,” he admitted. Linda’s eyes widened. “What? John and George, they say it’s not a big deal. That I should stop being such a bloody nonce about it and join in with them. I have done it a couple of times, and it just freaks me out. I don’t like how it makes me feel.” He scrubbed his hand over his face again. “I know that Jane dumping me was my fault,” he admitted. “The coke made me sloppy. I’d never have gotten caught had I been sober.” 

“You shouldn’t have been sleeping with all of those women!” Linda insisted. 

“I know.” Paul met her gaze. “They were there. I was stupid.” 

“That’s the other thing,” she told him. “I won’t have you coming in and playing at dad and having other women on the side. If you’re committing to me and Heather, you’re committing to us. I won’t have her up all night wondering why her father hasn’t come home, or why her father was kissing someone who wasn’t her mother.” She slipped the cigarette from his fingers, and took a puff. “She has enough issues.”

“What’s wrong with her? Is she sick?” 

“No, she’s not sick,” she assured him. “It’s just hard, you know? Being a single mom, especially in my family. I think that my father would have rather I’d ventured down to the wilds of Africa to try to convince Jojo that he needed to be a father than raised Heather on my own.” She pursed her lips. “Never mind that all I did was have sex with him the one time at a party and boom -- pregnant. I didn’t tell my father that,” she added. “He’s already disappointed in me enough. I wouldn’t care if they were only taking it out on me, but they’ve made her feel so unwanted.” She sighed. Linda tried not to let her feelings on her father and Monique’s treatment of her and Heather escape often, but Paul had asked, so he was getting an explanation. “It wasn’t bad at first, but then my brother and his wife had a baby, another girl. They named her after my mom. Dad and Monique actually pay really good attention to her, without strings attached.” 

“Strings attached?” Paul echoed. “What’d you mean?” 

“You know what I meant. John gave them what they wanted. A granddaughter who isn’t a bastard.”

Linda didn’t think that Heather was a bastard. She had made the decision to raise Heather on her own, and had been prepared to do it alone, but John had told her that while he didn’t necessarily agree with her decision to be a single mother, he didn’t want her to have to struggle. He wanted her to live with him. When it came between living in a one bedroom apartment and struggling to meet ends meet -- and keeping her sense of pride -- or allowing Heather to live in a safe environment where she would have her own room...well. Linda had swallowed her pride and accepted John’s offer. 

It had been the proper thing to do. 

Linda allowed Paul to take her by the hand and lead her to Brian’s bed, where he brushed off a thick layer of dust before taking a seat on the edge. Linda sat beside him. 

“Who cares that she doesn’t have a dad?” 

“You don’t understand,” she told him. “I brought so much shame...I was pregnant and unwed--”

“So they take it out on a four year old?” Paul’s tone was hard. “That’s bullshit. Where is she now?” 

“At my brother’s,” Linda explained. “They watch her when I travel. John and Jodie...I owe a lot to them,” she admitted. “John for taking me in when I had nowhere else to go, and she...well, she puts up with us.” She sighed. “I’m sure that she wasn’t exactly expecting to have to put up with John’s fuck up of a sister when she agreed to marry him. And I certainly didn’t think she’d want Heather to get along with Lulu. They share a room.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why. John made sure that Heather had a room of her own.”

“Your little niece?” Paul’s tone had softened, and she nodded. “That’s brilliant, y’know. I’m glad that Heather gets on with her.”   
  


“Do you want to see a picture of her?” 

“Of Heather?” Paul asked. His hands shook slightly as he squeezed her hand. “Yeah, Lin. If you’d feel comfortable with that.” 

“Well, you want to be her dad, don’t you?” 

He nodded. “Only if you’re okay with it,” he added. “And Heather. I mean, it’s her choice, really.” 

“You really care about what Heather wants?” 

Linda shifted so that she could reach into her handbag and pull out her wallet, opening it to reveal the latest photo of Heather. She slipped it out of the sleeve it had been in and handed it to Paul. She wanted him to have it. “This is Heather,” she told him, and she leaned into his side as he pulled his arm around her. “She’s four and a half.” 

“She’s brilliant,” he breathed. She could hear the excitement in his tone. Four and a half? Really, Lin?” 

She nodded. “Her birthday’s New Year’s Eve.” 

“Cor, that’s brilliant,” he told her. He shot her a grin. “We’ll have to throw a party for her. Maybe on the farm?” 

“You’ve got a farm?” 

“Yeah, up in Scotland,” he said. “I don’t go there often, and it’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but I reckon Heather’d like it. I’ve got all sorts of farm animals.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ve got horses, y’know. I remember that you told me that you used to ride them when we met the first time around.” 

“Well, we’ll have to ride them, won’t we?” She asked him, and she shifted so that she was facing him. “I love you, Paul.” 

“I love you too, Linda.” 

“You don’t think that we’d be bothered up here, do you?” She asked him idly, as she slipped her arms out of her blazer, and placed it on the floor beside her purse. It was almost embarrassing to admit, but the sight of Paul placing the photo of Heather in his wallet was sort of turning her on. “If I were to have my way with you?” 

She kicked her shoes off as she spoke, and stepped out of her skirt and stockings. There was something appealing about the potential of being caught. 

“I haven’t got a condom,” Paul told her, his tone disappointed. “I didn’t think you’d want to have your way with me at the launch party.” 

“Well, I do,” she purred. “We don’t need one.” 

“Are you sure?” 

The little voice inside of Linda’s head that reminded her that she had only slept with Jojo one time and had ended up pregnant was speaking, and trying to insist that they hold off until they had access to protection, but she elected to ignore it. Yes, she’d gotten pregnant with Heather after sleeping with Jojo one time, but she’d been younger then. It wasn’t going to happen again.

“Well, it’s up to you,” she admitted. “You don’t want to?” 

“It’s not that I don’t mind not wearing a condom,” Paul said with a shrug, an impish grin on his face. “I just reckon you deserve better than Brian’s bedroom. Do you really want to have sex on a bed that’s covered in dust?” 

Linda glanced at the bed in question. Her stomach recoiled. “No, not particularly. Does he not sleep at all?” 

“I told you that he didn’t.” Paul licked his lips. “Come on, let’s put you back to rights. I don’t want the other lads seeing parts of ye they shouldn’t.” 

Linda smirked. “Why don’t we leave my stockings behind? Give them something to talk about?”

* * *

  
  
  


“Why don’t we do one better and leave behind your bra?” Paul suggested idly, as his hands snaked up under Linda’s blouse, and found their way to unhook the clasps on what he knew to be an offending-to-her undergarment. “It’s not like you’re a big fan of it anyways.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” she told him, and she leaned in for a kiss. “You seem quite eager.”

Paul was already half hard, and they’d barely done anything that wasn’t him getting a deserved lecture for becoming a cocaine addict, and him somehow convincing Linda that he was somewhat capable of being involved in Heather’s life. He was more than a bit embarrassed that that was all it took. 

Linda didn’t seem to mind. “Do you want me to help you out?” 

“I do!” He said earnestly. “I just...I’d rather go home, Lin. I just want to be with you. I don’t want to have to worry about being quiet or about walking ‘round with wet spots on me trousers.” 

She gave him a soft smile. “You’re not very good at keeping quiet,” she agreed. “Come on. We can go home.” 

Home. Paul liked the sound of that. Linda had only been staying with him for a few days, but her presence had made what was fast becoming a depressing place to exist turn back into something resembling a proper household. She’d encouraged him to make an effort to clean up his living spaces, rationalising that she didn’t want him to live in a hovel, and the kitchen cupboards were no longer bare. He didn’t entirely enjoy Linda’s insistence that they have three meals a day, but she had held firm on it, and he hadn’t wanted to fight her on the subject. Not when the choice was between his terrible cooking and hers. Linda was a brilliant cook, y’know. The best that Paul’d ever had. Gaining a few pounds was worth it if it was because he’d ate her cooking. 

“Will you cook for me?” Paul asked her, in a low tone, as he ran his hands down her side, settling them protectively on her hips. “When we go to New York?” 

“Of course, I’ll cook for you,” she assured him. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “I reckoned maybe you’d be too busy with Heather.” Heather. Paul’s heart thumped uncomfortably fast at the thought of meeting the little girl. He knew that he was going to have an important role in her life. “Lin…?”

“Yeah, Paul?” 

“D’you think she’ll like me? Heather?” He took her hand in his, and raised it up so he could kiss her knuckles. “I want her to like me, so badly,” he admitted. “What if I disappoint her?” 

“I’m sure that she will,” she whispered. “I don’t see why she wouldn’t like you, Paul. You’re a good person. I like you an awful lot.” She kissed him on his cheek. “Heather’s a shy girl, but she’ll be okay with you. I promise. She’s wanted a dad for a while.” 

“What do you mean? I thought she’d never had one. She’s got you!”   
  


“She’s never had one, but she’s not stupid, Paul, she knows that her cousin’s got a dad, she knows that people on television and in the movies have dads. It’s normal for her to have wanted one. She used to ask Santa if he would bring her one for Christmas. Last year I cried when she did, and she noticed me. She said she’d never ask for a dad again.” As Linda spoke, they’d finished descending the stairs, and were en route to the front door. Paul thought of saying goodbye, but he didn’t see the need to prolong his presence. He wanted to leave. Not have people keep him for hours. “I hadn’t meant for her to see me cry,” she whispered. “It just happened.” 

“Aw, Lin, it’s okay,” Paul murmured, and he brought his hand up to caress her hair. “Y’know that you’re brilliant, right? You’re the best photographer I’ve ever known, and I know how much you care about Heather. She’s your daughter. When we used to tour, John’d never ring up Cyn to talk to Julian. He said that he was only a father when he was there.” He wrinkled his nose. “That seems like a shitty thing to do,” he added. “We’d be gone for weeks -- why wouldn’t he have wanted to ring up his son? I’d have been terrified that I’d miss things, y’know?” 

Paul didn’t want to miss anything with Heather. He vowed then and there to do whatever it took to make that happen. “Linda, if you’re serious about this,” he said, as he helped her into the hired car, settling down beside her. He held her hand as he spoke. “I want you to know that I’m committed to her, and to you. I’m not going to go off touring and not call. I want to do it proper-like, y’know. Get us a house the hell away from here.” He lit up a cigarette. “It’s not good for me, y’know. There’s too many bad influences. If I didn’t have to work, I’d say we could stay in New York.” 

“I think that it would be good for Heather to get away from there,” she admitted. “She’d be sad if we lived in New York and couldn’t see your farm, you know.” 

“I bet she’ll think it’s brilliant,” he told her. “I’ve got all sorts of animals that I’m sure she’ll love.” He kissed her softly. “She can help me do stuff around the farm, even. Obviously I’d make sure it was safe for her.” 

“Mmm, that would be nice,” she agreed. “I like the idea of a new house,” she told him. “Something new for us to have as a family.” 

“A family?” Paul licked his lips. “I’d like that, Lin. Having a family with you, and our girl. An instant family. That sounds so brilliant.”

He only wished that he’d been there for Linda and Heather from the beginning. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Linda to go through an entire pregnancy on her own. The thought made him rather sad. He was sure that she’d taken it in her stride, but he felt that it was important for a child to have both their parents. And he hated the thought of Linda being alone during her pregnancy. Wasn’t being pregnant an awful lot of work? 

Not that Paul had much to base his knowledge on. John had pretty much neglected Cyn throughout the entirety of her pregnancy. When he’d thought that she was having a miscarriage, he’d bought everyone a round of drinks. He hadn’t bothered to check on her at all. Paul hadn’t thought that was on. When Dot had lost their baby, sure, they’d both been relieved, but they’d been children. And he’d been there for her. He’d sat at hospital for hours. Ringo wasn’t much better. He acknowledged that Maureen was having a hard time with a toddler and one on the way, but his solution had been to hire a bloody nanny. Paul couldn’t imagine wanting to fob off childcare on a virtual stranger. 

“You really want to be a dad?” Linda sounded faintly impressed. He nodded. “Even though it means giving up cocaine?”

“I don’t care about that,” he insisted. “I’d rather be her daddy.”

“If that’s what you want...we can make it official?”

“What?” He asked her. “You mean adoption?”

Paul’s father had been hoodwinked into marrying a horrible woman who was only interested in Paul and Mike’s money. He had done his best to convince his father and Angie to part ways, and his father had gone off and adopted her child instead. He still thought he’d taken leave of his senses. Paul didn’t care for his new role as much-older brother. Mike was one thing — Paul didn’t remember life without him — but he hadn’t asked to gain a new sister in little Ruth. Or a stepmother, for that matter. 

“My dad adopted his wife’s child,” he told her, rather interested in the knees of his trousers. “Apparently it’s quite easy to do in England, even if you’ve only gone on one date with your new bride.” 

“What?”

“You heard me,” he said. “One date.”

Paul felt Linda shift closer to him. Her hand was at the nape of his neck, and he felt her fingers caress his skin. “I’m sorry, Paul,” she whispered. “I don’t think that that was a very appropriate thing to do.” 

“He didn’t even bloody tell us that he was seeing anyone, let alone that they’d run off and gotten themselves married.” He lit up another smoke, and took in a healthy drag. “Not telling me, whatever, I understand. I was already living here. But my brother’s living with him! He’s still in Liverpool, stuck at Rembrandt with the lovely little family.”

“He didn’t...your father didn’t tell your brother he was getting married?”

He shook his head. “He said that he knew neither of us would approve.” 

“But they’re living together!” 

He sighed. “Maybe that’s how your family worked, but it’s not how mine does.” He shook his head. “Honestly, Lin. What’s the big deal?” 

“Why would your father marry someone who he went on one date with?” 

Paul shrugged. “I dunno, really. Maybe he was lonely. Me mum died when I was fourteen, y’know? It’s a long time for a man to be without someone who’ll care for him.” 

“But you don’t marry someone you’ve gone on one date with,” she insisted. “That would have been like me marrying you after we hung out together backstage after your concert.” 

“Oh, would you have minded?” He waggled his brows. “I’d have done right by the two of you, if you had.” 

“It might have spared you a cocaine addiction,” she allowed, as she slid her palm down to his upper back. “It’s not normal. You realise that, right?” 

“Of course I realise that,” he said. “I know that it’s not. She’s after my money.” 

The joke was on Angie. Paul barely knew where his money was. He thought maybe it was in one of his safes? But he wasn’t entirely certain. 

“You’d really have done right by us?” Linda’s voice was small. “Even back then?” 

“Lin...if there had been a kid involved? I would have done anything,” he told her. “I would have tried, at least. It would have been hard, yeah, I’ll admit to that, but I would have gladly given it a go, y’know?” He placed his hand on her upper thigh. “About Heather, do you think that she’ll like me?”

Linda nodded. “Yeah, of course. She’s going to love you.” She covered his hand with hers. “Honey, you just bring that guitar of yours with you and she’ll be putty in your hands.” 

“Like her Mum,” he teased. He kissed Linda tenderly. “Hullo, Mummy.” 

“You’re calling me Mummy already?” 

He nodded. “Ought to start practising now, right? Get used to me new title.”

“Mmm,” she purred. The sound sounded almost orgasmic. Paul had to remind himself that they were still in the car, and that the driver wouldn’t appreciate them shedding clothes. No matter how hot he thought Linda was. His trousers had tightened. “How does Papa sound?” 

“You think she’d like to call me that?” 

“Maybe,” she whispered. “She might pick Daddy.” 

Paul flushed a bright red. “Yeah? Daddy?” 

“Whatever comes natural to her, that’s what she’ll call you,” she told him. He could see the stars in her eyes. “I think that she’ll love you, honey. No. I know that she will.” 

He licked his lips. “I know that I love her too.” 

Love was a big step for Paul, but he felt the need to confirm that he loved little Heather, even though they had yet to meet. He loved her mum so much, and they were a packaged deal. Linda had made that clear from the start. He respected her for that. He didn’t want her to choose him over the needs of her daughter. Well, he corrected himself, their daughter now. Heather’s needs came first. 

“Yeah?” Linda asked. She gave him a kiss. 

He nodded. “Yeah, Lin. I love her so much. Even though I haven’t met her yet.” 

“We should call her tomorrow,” she suggested. “You can talk to her. I’m sure that she’ll like you, though, honey.”

“I hope so,” he whispered. Paul wanted Heather to like him. What if she didn’t? He hated the thought of her disliking him leading to Linda tossing him to the kerb. But he knew that the little girl who was sleeping at her Uncle’s house in New York was her entire world. He admired that in her. “I want to be her dad, y’know. More than I want to do cocaine. Or the pills.” 

It was the truth. Sure, drugs were a gas, but he wanted more from life. He wanted to settle down, and build a family with someone whom he loved, and he’d come to realise that he loved Linda. He was amazed at how effortlessly she seemed to balance her roles as mum and photographer, and he wanted to help her raise little Heather. 

“You’re not going to regret it,” she assured him, and she leaned over to whisper in his ear. “God, Paul, I’m so horny. I just want you to bend me over the table, and have your way with me. The second we get home.” 

Paul’s trousers tightened. “I’d love to do that,” he said. “Maybe we ought to get rid of the coke first, y’know? Get it done with?” 

“You don’t want a final sniff?” 

Paul did, but he knew better. “It’s not ever one final sniff,” he told her. “I’ve tried that before. It’s once and then twice and then suddenly you haven’t got food in the cupboards and your bag of coke is next to your coffeepot. I can’t risk it. Not when something so important’s at stake.” 

The car pulled to a stop in front of Paul’s house, and he breathed a sign of relief at the fact that there was a dearth of fans. Paul had little desire to deal with them. He wanted to be alone with Linda. 

“After you, milady.” She giggled, and she exited the car. He wrapped his arm around her. “I love you, Lin. I can’t wait to meet our little girl.” 

“I love you, too, Paul.” Linda pressed herself against him. “No one’s ever wanted to meet Heather before.” 

Paul frowned. “Why not?”   
  


“You know why not,” she sighed. “I’m a marked woman. Not everyone is happy to have to deal with a child.” 

“You’re not a marked woman,” Paul insisted. “You’re not any of that. I don’t think that you’re a marked woman, or that Heather’s a bastard, or that you’ve fucked your life up or any of that. I don’t think that Linda, because it’s not true.” He lit up a smoke. “I get that your dad’s upset because you didn’t marry that arsehole that made Heather with you, but that doesn’t make you a horrid person. You’re not the only one with a past, y’know. So what if you have to live with your brother? That’s not a horrible thing. If he didn’t want you around, I’m sure he’d have said something by now.” 

“Everything I do makes me more of a disappointment,” she said in response. She twisted a lock of hair around her fingers. “When I stopped working at Town and Country and started being a freelance photographer, my dad stormed down to John’s apartment and read me the riot act. He told me that if I really cared about Heather I would actually try to make something of myself. Never mind that I was getting cheque after cheque for gig after gig. He was horrified when my photographs made the cover of Ebony,” she continued. Paul’s expression of confusion must have been evident on his face. “It’s an...ethnic magazine,” she told him. “You know. My father is a very proper man, Paul. He was quite embarrassed when his lawyer friends saw my name on the image credit.” 

“Oh, he’d bloody have a field day with me,” he commented. “Given that our contract rider said that we wouldn’t play in front of a segregated audience.” 

“He’s very traditional,” she sighed. “It embarrasses him, what I do. The company that I keep. I don’t know why, given that he works in entertainment. You’d think he’d be more open minded. All he talks about is how disappointed my mom would be. I don’t know why. I didn’t think that I was that horrible.” 

Paul drew in a deep breath. He had often felt as if he had continuously failed his mother, but he hadn’t been getting it in the ear from his very much alive father at the same time. Linda had, and it was clear to him that she’d internalised it. 

“My mum, she’s dead, too,” he whispered. “I don’t like to talk about her because I was taught to not bring her up. My dad would get too upset when we did, and, well, you know the company I keep. She’d be so ashamed of me. She wanted me to be a teacher.” 

“There’s nothing for your...she wouldn’t be ashamed of you,” Linda whispered. “Paul, honey, you’re wonderful. I love you.” 

He gave her a lopsided grin. “I love you too,” he whispered. “So much. C’mon, Lin. Let’s make a baby.”

* * *

  
  


Paul had never spent much time in New York. Sure, they’d been in the city, when they’d been on tours and whatnot, but he hadn’t really gotten to experience much of it for himself. Which was why the fact that he’d managed to sleep nearly three entire days away upon their arrival to Linda’s -- well, her brother’s -- flat, had genuinely upset him. He had wanted to begin to bond with Heather straight away, and, instead, Linda had let him sleep. He didn’t think that was very fair. He had to admit that he’d needed the rest. The combination of jet lag due to the change of time zones, and the effects of his cocaine withdrawal had truly left him exhausted. It was still somewhat disappointing to wake up and find out that Linda wasn’t beside him. 

He loved her so much. During his moments of lucidity, he’d felt her curled up beside him, the warmth of her body lulling him back to sleep. She’d coaxed some food into him, too. 

The problem was that Linda was nowhere to be found, and Paul was feeling ravenous. 

Linda had insisted that he needed to wear pyjamas while he was at her brother’s flat, and he’d gone along with it. Though he preferred to sleep starkers, he was a guest at someone’s home, and there was a child to consider. He had learnt the hard way that Ruth enjoyed disturbing her older brother’s rest on his rare visits home, and he didn’t think he wanted Heather to enjoy a similar view of his bare arse. So. Pyjamas it was.

John -- Linda’s brother, not Paul’s dear, idiot, friend -- had offered him a dressing gown, and Paul had sleepily accepted it. He hadn’t had the energy to explain his hatred of pyjamas to the older man. It had been polite to agree. He rose from the bed and slipped his feet in his slippers, catching a glance at himself in Linda’s mirror as he crossed the room to the wardrobe that the dressing gown was hung on. His eyes widened at the sight of himself. His hair was stuck up in various directions and it appeared as if he hadn’t shaved in days. He didn’t much care to put a razor to his chin, but he did feel the need to use the hairbrush atop her bureau to give his hair a tidy. 

It was fitting. He looked better, but felt absolutely dreadful. 

No matter, he decided. He was tired of having to look presentable all of the time. 

He slipped the gown on and belted it tightly. It was a rather posh one. He quite liked it. 

The entire flat was posh, of course. John was apparently a high powered lawyer, who worked in a firm with his father. A degree of opulence was to be expected, he reckoned. What had Linda said they were? Old Money? 

Paul couldn’t imagine having money. Actual bloody assets from your mum and dad? He loved his father, but he was the one who was keeping Jim’s family afloat. 

Semi-put back to rights, he opened Linda’s bedroom door and padded into the loo. He desperately needed to go, and to brush his teeth. His mouth felt like he’d been eating cotton wool. The last thing he’d wanted was to put on a bad impression, now that he was feeling up to functioning with the rest of them. He could hear the presence of others in the flat. He didn’t know who they were, but he knew that he had to do his best to be charming Paul, and not appear as if he’d been dragged from a sewer. 

“Heather,” he heard a woman’s voice say, and he assumed it was Linda’s sister-in-law. They’d been briefly introduced. “Did you want to go into your mother’s room and ask her friend if she wants breakfast?” 

“Breakfast?” Heather -- at least Paul assumed it was her -- echoed. “He’s probably still asleep. Mommy says he’s been working too hard.” 

“Go wake him up,” she said in response. “Your mother told me it was okay.” 

“No,” she replied. “I don’t want to. You do it.” 

“I’m making us breakfast!” 

Paul decided to put Linda’s sister-in-law, and Linda’s daughter, out of their collective misery. 

He entered the kitchen. “What’s breakfast?” He asked, as he stifled a yawn. “Is that a Yank thing?” 

“What do you mean?” Heather asked. She glanced at her aunt. “What’s he talking about? What’s a Yank?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” 

Paul knew that children liked to be included in conversations. Julian clung to Paul whenever he came over and spent quality time hanging on to his every word. Ruth was even worse. She got angry whenever Paul called her his stepsister and insisted on sneaking into his bed in the middle of the night. She’d even taken to calling him and demanding to know why he hadn’t been to visit. It was obnoxious. Paul knew that Heather was important to Linda, though, and he wanted to be kind to her. 

“You don’t know what breakfast is?” Heather asked him. “What’s a Yank?”

“A Yank’s an American,” Paul told her, as he scanned the room for a coffeemaker, his eyes managing to finally focus on the pot. “You’re a Yank.” 

“No I’m not,” she protested. “I’m a Heather.” 

“Of course, you’re a Heather,” he agreed. “How could I forget?” He offered her a charming smile. “I dunno if I eat breakfast,” he told her. “I’m not usually up this early.” 

“I don’t want to eat breakfast either,” Heather informed her aunt. “Why do I have to if Paul isn’t?” 

Paul let out a sigh. He’d forgotten that children mimicked adults. Whenever he was around Ruth he was forced into having a proper bedtime and his stepmum insisted on him having proper meals. If he didn’t comply, neither did Ruth. 

“I was having a laugh,” he told her. “I mean. Telling a joke. Your aunt, she worked hard on this. We should eat it. Where’s your mum?” 

Heather scowled. “What did you call her? Her name is Mommy.” 

“I know it is,” he assured her. “What’d I do wrong?” 

“You called her ‘mum’,” she told him. “That’s not her name.” 

Jodie interjected. “Heather--”

“It isn’t!” 

“That’s just what they call mothers in England,” she explained. 

Heather stamped her foot, and Paul thanked his lucky stars that her anger had been redirected at her aunt, and not at him. He crossed the room to the coffee pot, thankful that it was brewed. The only problem was that he didn’t know where the cups were. Paul didn’t want to disturb everything in Linda’s brother’s kitchen. That would be rude. 

“What are you doing up?” A familiar voice whispered in his ear, and he felt her wrap her arms around him. “Someone’s a sight for sore eyes.” 

“Hullo, Mummy,” he whispered. Heather let out a hiss. “I’ve met Heather.” 

“Now he’s calling you “Mummy”?”

Paul heard Linda sigh. “Heather, I thought we talked about this.” 

“Talked about what?” 

“We spoke about how my friend Paul came all the way over from England to meet you, remember?” 

Heather nodded. “I remember.” 

“And I told you that he needed a few days to rest but that he’d love to spend time with you and Lulu?” 

Heather nodded again.

“So why are you being rude to him? He just woke up. Do you like people being rude to you when you’ve just woken up?” 

“Lulu and I have been up for ages--”   
  


“That’s not the point, Heather, do you like that?” Paul watched her shake her head. “I didn’t think so. Why don’t you and Paul go out to the living room together while I help your aunt finish making breakfast?” 

Heather eyed him suspiciously. “Do you want to?” 

Paul knelt down so that he was on Heather’s level. “Yeah, I do,” he told her. “I’ll do whatever ye want while we wait.” 

“I’ll make you a cup of coffee,” Linda told him. “It’s no trouble.” He squeezed her hand. 

“You’ll do whatever I want?” Heather asked him, a glint in her eyes. “Anything?” 

“Within reason.” 

“I want to watch my favourite show,” she told him. “Will you watch it with me?” 

“Heather…” There was a warning in Linda’s tone. “I told you that we weren’t watching that.” 

“Why not?” Paul asked her. “If it’s her favourite?” 

“Because,” she said. “It’s that Beatles cartoon. Why would you want to see that?” 

Paul shrugged. “Because she wants to,” he answered. “I’ve never seen it, y’know.” 

Paul had to admit that he was somewhat flattered by the fact that the silly cartoon was Heather’s favourite. He thought the damn thing was as daft as it could possibly be, but the little girl that Linda loved so much liked it, so maybe it wasn’t that bad. He’d ring up Brian and tell him that the band wanted to authorise another series. No matter that John and George hated it. Heather liked it. What didn’t they hate now, anyways? Every day there was another complaint. It was obnoxious. 

Much to his surprise, he felt Heather’s hand brush against his. 

“What is it?” He asked her. “Are you all right?”

“I want to show you where the living room is,” she whispered. Her gaze was on the floor. It was a rather nice floor, Paul thought to himself. A tile of some sort. He didn’t know what was so interesting, though. “Hold my hand.”

“Your hand? You want me to hold your hand?”

“Uh huh,” she nodded. 

“Let’s let Paul have a cup of coffee first,” Linda interjected. “He’s quite tired. I’m sure he won’t mind holding your hand when he’s had one.” She nudged his shoulder, and held the coffee up to him. “Isn’t that right?”

“That’s right,” he accepted the coffee from her, and gave her a quick kiss. “I’d love to hold your hand, Heather. I’ve written a song about that, y’know.”

“Have you?”

Paul took a gulp of the coffee. “Yeah, y’know, I’ve written a lot of songs, but the song that I’ve written about holding hands I sang on the telly...the television,” he corrected himself. “Telly’s what we call the TV in England,” he told her. “Um, yeah, so me and me mates, we sang the song about holding hands when we were on Ed Sullivan. Here in New York.”

Heather wrinkled her nose. “You were on TV?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Loads of times.”

“That sounds scary,” she whispered. Paul watched her hand go up and into her mouth. He didn’t comment. “Was it scary?”

“Well, y’know, it depends,” he hedged, taking another sip of the coffee. “It can be scary. But it’s part of my job.” 

“We watched Paul on TV,” Linda told her. “You were very little thought, so you probably don’t remember.”

Heather appeared to be contemplating this. Though her thumb remained firmly planted in her mouth, she was at least looking Paul in the eye.

“Do you like Mommy?”

“Heather!” Linda protested. 

“No, Lin, it’s okay.” He knelt down so he was eye level with Heather. “I like your...mommy a lot.” The word mommy sounded foreign to his lips. “I think she’s brilliant. That’s why I came to New York with her when she came back. I wanted to meet you. Your mom, she talks about you a lot. She showed me pictures of you. She loves you so much. So I thought that I ought to meet the little girl who’s stolen her heart.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, of course, you.”

“Is that why you said you’d hold my hand?” Heather asked. She removed her thumb from her mouth, and clutched his fingers in hers. Her hand was damp, but he decided it didn’t matter. “And why you want to watch...telly with me? And why you called Mommy Mommy when Auntie Jodie said mummy’s how you say it in England?”

“Yeah, y’know. I want you to feel comfortable around me.”

“You’re not going to leave?” Heather asked him.

“What do you mean?”

“Now that you met me. Are you going to leave?”

Paul shook his head. “No, I’m not going to leave you,” he promised. He squeezed her hand with his. “I know that you and mum are a packaged deal. I might not know everything about helping your mum out with you yet, but I’m going to do my best to learn, y’know.” He handed Linda his empty cup of coffee. “You want me to stay, right?”

“Uh huh,” she whispered. She glanced up at him. “I want you to stay.”

“So do I,” Linda told him. “What do you say?”

Paul gave her a sheepish grin. “I’d say that you two are stuck with me.”

Linda offered him a smile. “I don’t mind being stuck with you. Why don’t you two go join John and Lulu in the living room? I’ll come join you when I’m done in here. Okay?” 

* * *

  
  


Heather was feeling very confused. She didn’t know what to make of her mom’s new friend, even though he had diligently held her hand as they walked from the kitchen into the living room. He called Mommy Mummy, and he spoke with a funny accent. Heather didn’t understand why he talked differently than her. Or why he’d spent the last three days in Mommy’s bed, mostly asleep. Heather liked naps just as much as the next person, but three days straight of sleeping? Mommy would have never let her. 

Mommy had told her that it was okay for Paul to do so, however, and she’d forced herself to tolerate the imposition in her life. She’d spent the entire time that her mother was in England longing for the day that she’d come back, and Heather could spend the night in her bed with her. Instead, she’d brought home her friend. Mommy had said that she could stay in bed with her anyways but he was there. 

Heather knew better. 

“Do you like me?” She asked him. “Paul?” 

Heather knew that Mommy’s friend was named Paul, because he’d told her when they’d come back from the airport, before he’d fallen asleep on the bed, on top of one of her stuffed animals. Mommy had told her that she needed to leave Paul alone -- that her toy would be fine -- but she had, and it wasn’t. The last time Heather had seen her stuffed bear, Paul had been cuddling with it! She was outraged, especially when Mommy told her he looked sweet. 

“Of course I like you, Heather,” he told her, and she felt him squeeze her hand. “Your mum tells me how brilliant you are.”

“She’s not telling the truth,” she whispered. “Not brilliant.” 

“Of course you are. I’m sorry that I’ve borrowed your bear,” he added. Heather glanced up at him. “It is yours, right?”

“I wanted to spend the night with Mommy, but you were there,” she told him. “You wouldn’t get off it. Mommy said that it would be okay.” 

“You could have spent the night with your mum--”

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “They get mad when they see me, they don’t like her anymore when she tells them about me. When they find out we live with Uncle John. I didn’t want you to get mad.” 

“I knew about you already,” he told her, his tone gentle. Heather gave him a surprised look. “Your mum told me about you. I told her that I wanted to meet you, so that we could be a family together. If that’s what you want. It’s up to you, Heather. I’m not mad that you exist. Those other blokes...they’re wankers.” 

“What does that mean?” Heather asked him. She wrinkled her nose in confusion. “Wankers?” 

“Oh, it just means that they’re awful,” he explained. “When Mummy told me about you, I was so excited.” 

“Why?” Heather wanted to believe Paul, she was just confused. No one besides her mom had ever wanted her. Some days she thought Uncle John and Auntie Jodie were just putting up with her and Mommy because they had to. Certainly no one that Mommy had dated -- including Heather’s father -- had thought she was worthy. “Why were you excited?” 

“Because, Heather. I love your mummy. I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone as much as I love her. I want to be a part of your family. You’re important to her.” He ruffled her hair with his free hand. The other remained intertwined with hers. “That makes you important to me.” 

“You want to be part of our family?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, if you’d have me.” 

Heather contemplated this. She had long since given up on her father coming back. Every time she’d asked Mommy about him, Mommy had burst into tears and started crying. The thought of having any dad at all had seemed impossible. Lulu had a dad. Uncle John was her dad. He loved Heather, but she thought he loved Lulu more. It wasn’t the same as having a dad, anyways. Even though he loved her. Maybe Paul would want to be her dad? He seemed to care about Mommy -- Mommy was the most important person in Heather’s life, and her dad needed to care about her -- and he said that he wanted to be part of their family. 

“What does that mean?” Heather asked him. “What do you want to be?” 

“I dunno,” he said. “I reckoned maybe I could be your dad. Would you like that?” 

Heather drew in a deep breath, and she gave him a nod. She felt rather shy. “You can be my dad. If you want to be.” 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want you to be Dada,” she whispered. “Dada and Mama, they match.” 
> 
> Paul had wanted to be Daddy, but he also wanted Heather to feel comfortable calling him by an honourific, so he was more than willing to go along with being called Dada, if it made her happy. He knew that having a dad was a new concept for her in general, and he didn’t want to upset her. Not when she seemed to like him. Heather was sprawled out on his lap, her thumb in her mouth, and her gaze focussed on the television set. His little koala bear seemed quite content to cuddle with him. Dada it was. 
> 
> “They do match, don’t they?” 

“I’d like to be,” Paul promised her. “Do you want me to pick you up?” 

Heather nodded. Her fringe fell into her eyes. “You want to pick me up?” 

“Sure I do,” he said. “It’s no trouble, honest. I’m more than willing to carry ye.” 

“Uncle John carries Lulu,” Heather told him, as she extended her arms for Paul to hoist her up into his. “He used to carry me but I don’t ask him to, anymore. I don’t want him to have to carry both of us.” Paul lifted her up, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Heather didn’t understand why she could get her arms all around him. She couldn’t even do that with Mummy. “Paul--Daddy, I mean, are you okay?” Heather liked that he wanted to be her dad, but she wasn’t entirely used to the word yet. She’d never had a dad after all. 

“Why doesn’t he carry you anymore?” Paul-no-Daddy asked her, and she noticed his lack of response to her question. Heather frowned. She knew he’d heard her. Why wouldn’t he answer her?

“Because,” Heather said. “He’s got Lulu now. She’s his. Not me.” 

“Yeah, but, you’re his niece,” Paul pointed out. “He really said he wouldn’t?” 

She shook his head. “No, he didn’t say anything about it,” she whispered. “It was me that stopped it.”

“Why?” Paul asked. “Did something happen?” 

“Grandpa,” Heather murmured. “He said that Uncle John didn’t have to pay attention to me anymore. He had a daughter now. A legitimate one. What does that mean?” 

“It’s a load of bollocks, that’s what it means,” he assured her. “Your grandpa, he thinks that a Mum and a Dad have to be married before a baby comes,” he told her. “That’s wrong. A marriage doesn’t make you a family. You and your Mum are a family. You were even without me. There are different types of families, Heather.” 

“Why did he say that, then?” 

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “He sounds like a prick.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It’s just a word that we use back where I’m from to describe someone that isn’t particularly nice,” he settled on. “He shouldn’t have made you feel like you were doing something wrong, Heather. Your uncle, he loves you, my little panda.” He paused. Heather gazed down at him. “Do you want to be my little panda? Or did ye want to be something else?” 

Heather squinched up her face in concentration. “Can I be a koala?” 

“Yeah,” he told her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’ll be a brilliant koala. I met a koala once, you know?” 

Heather giggled. “You did? A real live one?” 

He nodded. “Sure I did,” he told her. “Me and me mates met them down in Australia, y’know, when we were on our tour there. We got to meet all sorts of animals. Kangaroos, the koalas. Cor, it was brilliant.” He grinned at her. “When we go to my house I can show you some of the pictures, if you want.” 

“Where do you live?” 

“I live in London. Across the pond, y’know. Mummy and I...we’ve known each other for a couple years now, and we thought it was time for me to get to know you. See if you wanted me to be your dad, y’know?” 

“I do!” Heather insisted. “I want you to be my daddy.” 

“You want me to eat breakfast with you, too?” Paul asked her. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” Heather asked him. “Mama says we have to eat breakfast every day.” She nuzzled his neck. “Why do you smell like that?” 

“Smell like what?” 

Heather eyed her new dad in confusion. He smelled absolutely terrible, which made sense, given that Heather had had three baths during the time that he’d been asleep. But why didn’t he know what she was talking about? Hadn’t he had a bath before? Mama gave her a bath every night, whether she wanted one, or not. When Mama was working, Auntie Jodie did it. Did Daddy need her to give him a bath? Maybe he didn’t know how!

“Like you need a tub,” she declared. “Mama didn’t give you a tub yesterday? I said she could use my bubbles! Do you want to use them?”

“Oh, no, I don’t need to use your bubbles,” he mumbled. Heather watched him cover his mouth. “I haven’t been feeling well, Heather. Mum said that I didn’t have to shower until I was out of bed, y’know, because of the time change.” 

“Aren’t you?” She demanded. “Out of bed?” 

“I’ll shower after breakfast,” he told her. “Why aren’t you in your pyjamas still?” 

“Because, Paul,” Mama interjected, and she reached her arms out for Heather. “It’s almost ten.”

“Ten?” 

“I told you we should have woken him earlier,” Heather whinged. She curled closer to him. “Mama, I told you.”

“Earlier?” He echoed. “Why’d you want to do that?” 

“I wanted you to watch television with me,” Heather explained. “Mama got up so early with me and Lulu, we got to watch cartoons. Uncle John was still sleeping, too,” she sighed. It was so unfair. Both Daddy and Uncle John had missed such awesome shows, and Uncle John hadn’t even cared! At least poor Daddy seemed sad that he’d missed them. She assumed that was why he had that horrified look on his face. “Don’t worry, they’re on  _ every _ weekend! Next weekend, we can watch them  _ all _ together. Not just my favourite one.” 

“When does your favourite one start?” He asked her. “Have I time to have a quick shower?” 

Heather nodded. “I think so,” she said. “Does he, Mama?” 

Mama nodded. “Of course he does,” she said. “You can use the bathroom next to my room. Come on, Heather. We’ll let Daddy take a shower, okay?” 

“Okay,” she whispered, and she reluctantly peeled herself off Paul. Mama took her in her arms, and she snuggled close to her. “He won’t leave, will he?”

“No, Heather, of course he won’t leave,” she said, her tone soothing. “You won’t, will you, Paul?”

“I’m not gonna leave,” he insisted. “I’m just gonna take a shower, that’s all. I promise.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Paul reckoned that it was possible that Heather had had a point in that he needed a shower, mainly because he’d gotten a good whiff of himself as he’d handed her to Linda, but he still resented the impositioning that showering entailed. It had been fine when they’d been in London, and Linda had been content to shower with him, but having to shower alone? That he wasn’t keen on. 

He supposed it was a good idea to set a good impression by Linda’s family, though, even if he personally didn’t mind physically appearing as if he was falling apart. If Heather had noticed what a mess he was, well, maybe he needed to put himself back to rights. 

He undressed himself quickly, wanting to get back in time to watch the bloody Beatles programme with Heather. Paul wasn’t particularly keen on seeing the cartoon, but he was dead chuffed that Heather considered it to be her favourite. He wondered if she really liked him, or if she was just calling him dad to please him. He hoped that she did.

He stepped into the shower, and began to scrub himself down. Linda’s products were the only ones that were in there -- save Heather’s bubble bath -- but he really didn’t mind. He loved her. Why did he care if he smelt like her? 

The warmth of the water warmed him, and he scrubbed shampoo into his hair. Now that it had been mentioned, he did feel dead grotty. Heather was right. Paul had known that he’d needed a shower from the moment he’d woken, he just hadn’t been able to bring himself to care. He was so tired of having to keep up appearances all the bloody time. He didn’t have anyone to really impress, but he didn’t want Linda’s brother to think that he’d been raised in a barn, without any manners. 

Once he’d finished, he wrapped his towel around his waist, and contemplated the state of his facial hair. 

Paul wasn’t sure if he wanted to shave off the scruff that had grown since he’d slept through his first few days in New York. He rather liked it, both because it made him look more mature, and because he knew perfectly well that growing facial hair was bound to annoy Brian. Well, it annoyed Paul when Brian decided that it was perfectly acceptable to not bother staying in the Priory until he had fully recovered, and it annoyed Paul that his manager had both been the one to tell Jane that he was seeing other women, and was the one who had yet to properly apologise to him. Brian didn’t even understand why he was annoyed.

Paul knew that cheating on Jane was wrong, he just thought it was hypocritical for Brian to think so, when George was cheating on Pattie, and the number of affairs that John had had over the course of his marriage were more than he could count. 

The facial hair, he decided, could stay. 

Towel wrapped around his waist, he took the brief walk back to Linda’s room, entered it, and closed the door behind him. 

Certain he was alone, he sat down on the edge of her bed. He soon heard a childlike giggle. 

“What?” He asked, trying not to let the nerves he felt show. “Who is it?” 

“Silly Daddy! It’s me. Heather. I’m under the bed.” 

“Under the bed?” Paul echoed. “What are you doing under the bed?”

“I was waiting for you,” she informed him. “I didn’t want to scare you.” 

“So you...hid under the bed?” Paul desperately tried to will his heart back into a normal rhythm, and he carefully leaned over to look under the bed, where Heather had indeed hidden herself. “Why don’t you come out from under there?” 

“Okay,” Heather agreed, and she crawled out from her hiding spot, a pleased expression on her face. There was dust on the sleeve of her jumper. “Can I sit with you?” 

“Don’t you want to watch the telly?” Paul asked her. “When does it turn to your programme?” 

There was a digital clock on Linda’s bedside table, and Heather climbed up on the bed beside him, and scrutinized it. “Not until there’s a one and three zeroes,” she told him. “Mama says that means ten o’clock. That says the number nine and a four and a five.” 

“You recognise your numbers?” 

Heather nodded, and she wrapped her arm around his waist, above the towel. “You didn’t answer my question earlier.” 

“What question was that?” 

She glanced up at him. “I asked if you were okay,” she said. “Are you? I can hug you all the way even though you’re a grownup, and I can see your ribs.” As if to emphasise this, she poked his side. 

“Not all of them!” He protested. “Only a couple.” 

“That’s because you don’t eat breakfast,” she informed him. “You should eat breakfast with us! Auntie Jodie made all my favourites.” 

“I’ll sit with you while you eat,” he offered. Paul thought that was a good deal. It was obvious by the noise of discontent that Heather disagreed. “No?” 

“Mama said that you have to eat with us,” she informed him. “Whether you want to or not.” 

“Well, all right,” he agreed. “I reckon we ought to listen to your mama.” He ducked his head down to kiss the top of her head. “She’s a brilliant lass.”

Heather nodded. “I love her.” 

“Yeah?” Paul thought about telling Heather that they wanted to make her a big sister, but he brushed the thought aside. He didn’t know if Linda was pregnant, anyways, and he didn’t know if Linda would want to tell her even if she was pregnant. Paul hadn’t been old enough to remember not having a younger brother, and his mother wasn’t around anymore to discuss these things with. “I love her too.” 

“I know,” she whispered. “She told me. She told me that you loved each other a lot, and that you wanted to meet me, so that we could be a family together. She said that you wouldn’t care about me not having a dad.”   
  


“I can be your dad, Heather,” he whispered. He ran his fingers through her hair. “I might not be that great at it, but I want to be able to try.” He sighed. “I, uh, it’s not the same thing, but, I don’t have a mum.”   
  


It was cowardly, but Paul rose from his seat to approach the wardrobe, where Linda had told him she’d hung his clothes, and he pulled out a pair of trousers and one of his jumpers, grabbing a pair of his briefs and slipping them on underneath the towel. He pulled on the rest of his clothes in front of Heather. 

“What do you mean?” Heather asked him. “You never had a mom?” 

He shook his head, and he grabbed at his pack of cigarettes. “I had a mum, when I was your age,” he told her. “I had a mum until I was fourteen.” He stuck a cigarette in his mouth, and lit it. “She’s dead.”

“Did she die in a plane crash?” Heather grabbed at his hand. 

“No, what gave you that idea?” He asked, and he glanced down at her. “Come ead, let’s go out to the sitting room, and we’ll watch your show.”

“Okay!” She chirped. “Grandma Louise,” she added. “Mama’s mama. She died in a plane crash.”

“My mother, she had breast cancer,” he told her. “She ignored it, and it was too late when they caught it.” 

“Oh,” she whispered. “Do you have a daddy?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got a daddy,” he confirmed. “His name’s Jim, he’ll be your grandfather,” he told her. “He’s married again, so I’ve got a stepmum, Angie--”   
  


“Mama has a stepmom too,” she told him. “Her name’s not Angie though, it’s Monique.” Heather squeezed his fingers. “Why did you say you don’t have a mama anymore? Grandma Louise died and she’s still Mama’s mom. She tells me about her.”

“Right, well, I’ll tell you about her, y’know,” he mumbled. “If you want me to.” 

“You don’t have to.”   
  


“No, Heather, it’s all right,” he promised. “I’m keen on it. I mean, I’ll tell you and your mum about her.” 

“Will you carry me?” Heather asked him. 

“Course I will,” he agreed, and he lifted her up. “Maybe your Mama will watch the telly with us. If she’s not too busy helping your auntie.” 

When Linda had told Paul that she lived in her brother’s flat, Paul had been expecting a rather small living space. After all, they were living in New York City, and Paul knew that it was quite expensive to live there. John and Jodie’s flat was larger than he’d expected it to be. It was larger than the house he’d lived on in Forthlin Road. “Do your aunt and uncle own this whole place?” He asked Heather. She’d laid her head on his shoulder. “Or do they let it out?” 

“Grandpa Lee bought it for them,” she said in response. “When Uncle John graduated from law school.” 

“Right,” he sighed. “Grandpa Lee.” 

“I think he likes Lulu more than me,” she whispered. “Do you think that your dad will like me?”

“My dad?” Paul asked her. “I don’t know why he wouldn’t, koala bear. We could always ring him up and give him a hello, if you’d like?” 

Heather shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I don’t like to talk on the phone.” 

“Not even to talk to my sister?” Paul asked her, as they headed in the direction of the sound of the television. “I’ve got a sister, y’know, she’s a couple of years older than you.”

“What’s her name?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. Paul really didn’t like talking about Ruth. She was his sister, sure, but he loathed her mother, and was angry that his father had married her mother and adopted her without even telling him. What really annoyed him was the fact that Mike had accepted their new sister with open arms. Paul had offered to let him move in with him, first at the Ashers, and then at Cavendish, and Mike had refused to leave. 

But this was Heather. He wanted to be her dad, so desperately, and he didn’t want to do anything to screw it up. Even if not screwing it up meant that he had to pretend he was keen on his sister. 

“Her name’s Ruth,” he told her. “She’s aged seven.” 

“Seven?” Heather echoed. “But you’re Mama’s age.”

“Right, well, my dad adopted her,” he explained, and he tried to keep his expression neutral. “She was a packaged deal, who came with his new wife. My stepmother.” He scrubbed his face with his free hand. “So, y’know, we’re not very close, because she lives with my dad and I live in London, but I reckon she’d be keen on meeting you.”

“Don’t you like her?” 

“Of course, Heather,” he assured her. “It’s just hard, y’know? I don’t have a lot of time to see people when I’m working, and I’ve been working a lot lately. We’ve just had a launch party for our latest record. They live in Liverpool...it’s quite a long drive. Four hours. So I don’t go down there as often as I might.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I like Ruth, of course I do. She’s my sister. She’s just much younger than me, so we don’t have much in common, and it would be hard for her to travel on her own. My dad’s a bit poorly, y’know, so it’s hard for him to drive long distances a lot.”

“What’s wrong with him?” 

“He’s just got arthritis,” he explained. “It’s not very serious, it just doesn’t make the drive to London all that pleasurable.” 

“Do you think she’ll like me?” 

Paul nodded. He kissed the top of Heather’s head. “Of course I think so,” he promised her. “I love you so much, and I love her so much. I dunno why the two of you wouldn’t love each other. You’ll be able to play together when we go to England...is it all right with you if we go to England?” 

“Will you have to work all the time?” 

He shook his head. “No, I won’t have to work all the time. George is trying to get us all to go to India with him, to study some bloody lark.” He pulled a face. “I won’t go. I’d rather be home with you, and your mum.” 

Paul hoped to be home with a little McCartney on the way as well, but he wasn’t sure if that was a possibility. He hoped so. He had been sincere when he’d told Linda that he’d wanted to make a baby with her. He hadn’t just been saying that so she’d say no to using a condom. He desperately wanted to have a baby. He thought that John and Ringo were just squandering the opportunities they had -- John because he treated Julian as if he was a house plant, and Ringo because he was okay with Mo having hired a nanny instead of him doing the work -- and he was frankly a little jealous of them. Maybe Ringo was a decent dad, but Paul knew he was better at it than John was. Not that that would be hard. John’s behaviour had become downright embarrassing lately. When they’d gone on holiday to Greece, Julian had told him that he wished Paul was his dad.

When he’d tried to bring it up to John, John had demanded to know how Paul played with children, and made them happy. How was he meant to answer that? It was something that he been naturally gifted with, not something he’d managed to learn. John seemed to completely lack parenting skills. It was like Julian was an imposition to him. It had been incredibly awkward the last time they’d seen Ruth. 

Mike had brought Ruth down for the weekend, and Paul had decided that he ought to get Ruth and Julian together for a playdate. It was good for Ruth to get a meal that wasn’t a takeaway into her, and Julian clearly enjoyed the company. John had insisted on rousing himself and joining in, which would have been fine, had he also not clearly been tripping on bad LSD. 

Paul hadn’t realised that John was high on LSD at first, though he realised he should have been suspicious of his friend’s presence, and his willingness to tolerate both the children, well, behaving like children, and he hadn’t recognised the signs that it was a bad trip until it was much too late. By the time he’d realised, John had disappeared. He’d gotten into his head that he could fly, and he’d swan dove into his swimming pool. 

Ruth had been terrified at the sight, and Paul had to admit it had taken him a moment or two to regain his equilibrium, but Julian had seemed rather nonplussed. John, it seemed, did such things often. 

Paul did not want Heather to meet John. 

“I want you to be at home with me and Mama.” Heather agreed, and she snuggled close to him. They entered the sitting room. Much to Paul’s relief, Linda was sat on the settee, where there was ample space for him and Heather. Linda’s brother had commandeered an easy chair, and he sat on it, a toddler on his lap. “Lulu!” Heather chirped. “I have a Daddy now! Just like you.” She wriggled in his arms. “Put me down, Daddy?” 

“Well, okay,” he decided. He lowered himself to the ground so that she could get out of his arms safely. “I’m going to sit with your mum.” 

Paul sat down on the settee next to his girlfriend, and he wrapped his arm around her. “Do I pass inspection?” He whispered in her ear. His hand settled on her side. 

“Mmm, much better,” she purred. “Especially since I got sick all over you during that flight.” 

Paul frowned at the memory. Linda had spent their entire flight to New York feeling absolutely horrid. Worse than he’d felt, and he was detoxing from his cocaine dependence. He’d felt absolutely bloody awful about the ordeal. She’d insisted that it was only due to the fact that they were flying, but he wasn’t sure. 

“How’re you feeling?” 

“Fine,” she assured him. “Just a little tired.” She covered his hand with hers. “A little late, too.” 

“What’d’you mean?” 

Linda opened her mouth to respond, but Heather came bounding over to them, and settled down on his lap. “I’ll tell you later,” she mouthed. “It’s not bad.” 

“My show’s about to start!” Heather squeaked. “Pay attention!”

“Okay, darling,” Paul cooed, and he settled back on the settee, pleased with having his new daughter on his lap, and his girlfriend tucked against his side. He’d never thought that he’d have a family -- didn’t it figure that John had managed that before him? Paul would never understand -- and now he had a ready-made one. And Heather wanted him to be her dad. He was dead chuffed at that. “Tell me, who’s your favourite?” 

Heather giggled. “The one with the big nose! That’s not you, is it?” 

“No, I’m afraid not. That’s me mate Ringo,” Paul told her. He hoped that the television programme hadn’t given him a big nose, at least. That would have been unacceptable, and he would have to speak to Brian over having allowed it. “Why do you like him so much?” 

She continued her laughter. “Because he’s funny! He’s always getting himself into trouble. Haven’t you seen it?” 

Paul shook his head. “No, I haven’t,” he told her. “We don’t have it on the telly in England.” 

Heather pouted. “Why not?” 

“I dunno, really,” he admitted. “I can look into it for you, if you’d like to watch it there.” 

“You don’t know?” Linda’s brother interjected. “Didn’t you sign a contract?” 

Paul shrugged. “If I did, I don’t remember, and I probably didn’t. Brian handles this type of stuff. He says that we don’t understand it. He’s not wrong, y’know. I wouldn’t know what to make of the American money.” 

“When you say ‘Brian handles this type of stuff’, what do you mean?” 

Linda sighed. “Oh, John, come off it. Not everyone’s a lawyer. You can’t expect Paul to have a working knowledge of contract law.” 

“I can expect him to not be taken advantage of!” 

“Taken advantage of?” Paul echoed. “What are you talking about?” 

“If he’s just having you blindly sign on the dotted line, who knows what you’re agreeing to? You could be getting a raw deal.” 

Paul furrowed his brow in thought. His immediate thought was to defend Brian, but he wondered if John was telling the truth. Were they getting a raw deal? He wasn’t sure. 

“Well,” Linda interjected, in a delicate tone, as she shifted his hand on her abdomen. He wasn’t even sure if she knew what she was doing. “John might have a point, Paul. Don’t you remember the conversation that we had about bank accounts and putting your paypackets in them?”

“Right, you said that they needed to go to the bank, and not into my safe,” he said. He shrugged. “Why is it a problem that I didn’t know that? I told you, we didn’t have much money growing up.” 

“Well, I mean, Brian should have talked you through doing that,” she told him. “Instead he just handed you money. Cash! What if you’d been robbed?”

“I have been robbed before,” he admitted easily. “They’d not go for the money. They want what’s mine.” He lit up a cigarette. “I told you, Lin, Brian doesn’t want us to worry about money, or paying for things. He gives us the pay packets, yeah, but we’re not meant to use them. He likes to approve all our purchases.” 

“You don’t think that’s a little strange?” John asked him. Paul turned his head in his direction. “I mean, you’re adults, aren’t you?” 

“I’ll be 25 in a couple of weeks,” he told him. “George is the youngest. He’s 24.”

“That’s my point,” he extrapolated. “Keeping your money under lock and key makes sense if you’re under the age of majority,” he told him. “In fact, here there are special laws in place that protect the earnings of child performers, because without those laws, there was nothing stopping their parents from stealing their money.” He pursed his lips. “Aren’t the others married?” 

Paul snorted. “If you want to call it that. I mean, yeah, y’know, they’ve gone off and found brides, and Brian was right there at every bleeding wedding ceremony, smiling for the bloody camera. He’s even Julian’s godfather.” Paul had to admit that he was a bit hurt about that. Why hadn’t he been good enough to be Julian’s godfather? He’d been John’s mate for longer. “Julian’s John’s son,” he clarified. “He’s around your age,” he told Heather. “You’re a couple of months older than him.” 

Heather glanced up at him. “You know when I was born?” 

“Yeah, your mummy told me,” he told her. “When we were still in England.” 

“Her  _ name _ is Mama,” Heather insisted. “Not Mummy. Mama.”   
  


“Heather…”   
  


“No, Lin, it’s okay,” he insisted. “I’m sorry that I called her the wrong name. I didn’t mean to, honest. I’m just learning this stuff. Do you even want to call me Daddy? You can pick.” 

“I want you to be Dada,” she whispered. “Dada and Mama, they match.” 

Paul had wanted to be Daddy, but he also wanted Heather to feel comfortable calling him by an honourific, so he was more than willing to go along with being called Dada, if it made her happy. He knew that having a dad was a new concept for her in general, and he didn’t want to upset her. Not when she seemed to like him. Heather was sprawled out on his lap, her thumb in her mouth, and her gaze focussed on the television set. His little koala bear seemed quite content to cuddle with him. Dada it was. 

“They do match, don’t they?” 

Heather nodded. “Lulu calls Uncle John daddy,” she told him, her words muffled by her thumb. “Don’t want to call you the same thing.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he promised her. “I’ll be whatever suits you.” 

“Do you think that Julian will like me?” Heather asked him.

Paul nodded. “Yeah, of course, he’ll like you,” he shrugged. “You two are the same age, y’know, I don’t know why he wouldn’t.” 

“What does he like to do?” 

He shrugged. “I dunno, really, he likes to play with me, y’know? He likes when I play with his toys and pay attention to him. Sometimes I bring Martha and Eddie. He likes to play with them.” 

“Those are your doggies, right?” Heather asked. She glanced up at him, and took her thumb out of her mouth. “Eddie and Martha?” 

“Right, they’re my doggies,” he said. “Martha’s a sheepdog, and Eddie’s a terrier.” 

“Why didn’t you bring them with you?” 

“Oh, I had my brother come and get them,” he told her. “He brought them down to the house he shares with me dad and me stepmon--me stepmother,” he hastily corrected himself. He didn’t like Angie, but he didn’t think calling her his stepmonster around Heather was particularly appropriate. “He can watch them. They’re used to going there, and y’know, I didn’t want to just show up with my dogs in tow. It wouldn’t have been nice to surprise your uncle like that.” 

Heather wrinkled her nose. “But I wanted to meet them,” she insisted. “Why didn’t you ask me?” 

“You’ll be able to meet them soon,” Linda told her. “When we go back to England.” 

“Why would we go there?” Heather questioned. “We live here.” 

“I know, honey, but wouldn’t it be nice to have our own place? We could live with Paul?” 

“Is that where Dada’s from?” 

“I’m from Liverpool,” he told her. “It’s a city in England, but I live in London now.” Paul sensed that Heather’s attention was on him rather than on the programme, and he really didn’t mind. He’d had no idea that the little girl who was sat on his lap would have been so curious about him. He’d expected Heather to want nothing to do with him. He was her mum’s boyfriend, after all. “I’ve got a property near where I work, and that’s where Mama stayed when she was visiting last.” He ran his hand through Heather’s hair. “I reckon that we ought to move out of the city, though, y’know?” 

“Why?” Heather asked him. “We don’t have to.” 

“I know we don’t have to,” he told her. “I just think it’d be nice to have a place less...in the thick of things, y’know? There are always people hanging around, and it’s a bit of a drag. I can put up with it when it’s just me, but I don’t want you and Mama to have to deal with them.” 

John cleared his throat. “Have you considered a trust?” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Your property would be under a less identifiable name,” he explained. “That way people couldn’t just look you up in the directory.” 

Paul furrowed his brow. “You can do that?” 

“I’m surprised that it hasn’t been insisted upon,” he told him. “If you were my client, I’d want you protected.” 

“John’s an entertainment lawyer,” Linda interjected.

“I know that,” he told her. Linda had told him that her brother and father ran a law firm called Eastman and Eastman, and she’d insisted that he bring the boring bits and bobs of things that were meant to be his contract with Brian along with them to New York. Paul hadn’t been sure why she wanted him to, but it had been easy enough to agree. “You told me, remember?”

“I just think that you should show him the contracts that you’ve signed,” Linda insisted. “You told me that your father didn’t think that they were kosher.” 

“I don’t want to do that on his day off,” he protested. “Besides, it’s not a big deal. Brain’s trustworthy. He’s Brian Epstein of NEMS.” 

“What is NEMS, anyways?” John asked. “Is it a professional organisation?” 

Paul shook his head. “No, it’s a music store. Why? What’s the big deal?” 

“You’re letting the owner of a music store manage your band?” John asked him, in a tone that sounded eerily reminiscent of how his father would sound when he and John had done something that the elder McCartney deemed questionable. “Why on earth would you all agree to that?” 

“He’s a posh bloke! He’s upper class, y’know. There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“Your father seemed to think that there was.” 

Paul ran his hand through his hair. “I dunno what to tell you, mate, my dad thought that we were being had. I don’t know why,” he told him. “Maybe he’d been burned by the wrong people before.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what he thought because I was old enough to sign on my own, y’know? It was George who needed his mum’s permission. She gave it to him. I don’t even think Brian signed the contract.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t think that he did,” he repeated. “What, is that a big deal?” 

* * *

  
  
  


“Yes, it’s a big deal,” John told him, and he winced at the level of his voice. He drew in a steadying breath in order to maintain calm. He didn’t want to scare either of the children. Lulu had abandoned paying attention to the television programme in favour of watching the conversation between her father and the man Heather had claimed as her father that was taking place, while Heather was snuggled against Paul’s chest, her thumb in her mouth. If he shouted and terrified her -- even accidentally -- Linda would probably strangle him. “If a person doesn’t sign a contract, it causes all sorts of problems.” 

He reminded himself that Paul was quite young, and that he’d been even younger when he’d been first introduced to a contract that John truly feared to look at. It wasn’t his fault -- or that of his fellow bandmates -- that they had been led down a bad path. Especially since it was clear that Paul had next to no idea what he was talking about. 

“First off,” he told him, affecting a pleasant, genial tone. “You shouldn’t have approached a managerial contract without a lawyer.” 

“We haven’t got those in England,” Paul insisted. “Lawyers, y’know.” 

“You call them solicitors,” he informed him. “You should have booked in with a solicitor to review the management contract.” 

“We didn’t have the money for that!” He protested. “Are you having me on? Do you think any of us came from money? The only one who’d have begun to be able to afford that was John’s aunt, and she thought the whole bloody band was rubbish. She’d have had a solicitor paid on her account over her dead body.” 

John had grown up with money, so he found it hard to believe that there were people who didn’t have disposable income at their beck and call to do things like hire solicitors or ensure their finances were properly managed. He and Linda had had savings and loan accounts from the day they were born, as well as their sisters. The thought of a grown adult needing to learn how to open a bank account was downright preposterous to him. However, he knew that not everyone was accustomed to a life of privilege. All he had to do was see what his father and stepmother had done to Linda when she’d become pregnant with Heather. 

John didn’t understand why Jojo -- the name was as irritating as the person, if you asked him -- had lied to his face and told him that he didn’t know Linda and certainly hadn’t had relations with her at a party, and definitely hadn’t gotten her pregnant, but he had come back from his encounter with him feeling like he had failed. What type of man would just abandon his child? 

But hadn’t his father essentially abandoned his? He knew that it was disappointing that Linda had dropped out of college, gotten pregnant, and decided to become a photographer, but it was as if she no longer existed. Since he and Jodie had had Louise, it was as if Heather barely existed, either. 

“I understand that,” he said. “What about when your contract is up for renewal?”

“Oh, that’s in a couple of months,” Paul told him. He shrugged. John watched him kiss the top of Heather’s head. “I reckon that Brian’ll sort it out, y’know? He did it the first time.” 

“I think what John’s saying, is that you shouldn’t trust Brian to have your best interests in mind,” his sister told Paul, her tone much gentler than John’s had planned to be. “I know that you like Brian, and you don’t want to think negatively of him, but it’s important to have someone else look at the contract before you sign it. Maybe he wouldn’t be doing it purposely, but--”

“Linda,” John interjected. “Have you heard the things Paul’s been saying?”

“I know, John,” she said. “I just understand that Paul might want to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Of course I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt,” Paul told her. “He’s my mate...we’re bloody friends. Why the hell would he screw us over?” 

“Are you really friends?” He asked. Paul glanced over at him, confusion written all over his features. “I know that you think that you’re friends,” he elaborated. “I understand that. I just wonder if he might have told you that he was your friend so that you wouldn’t question his business decisions. You yourself said that he was of a different class than you.” 

John watched Paul light up a cigarette. His hands were shaking. “I don’t--I dunno, really. I thought that we were friends, y’know, maybe not at first, but I thought that we’d built up a friendship over the years. Isn’t that what people do? Linda and I, we were friends…you’re obviously not in the same class that I was.” 

“We’re not British,” he pointed out. “Brian is meant to be in a position of authority over you, not trying to claim that because he’s your friend he should be allowed to run roughshod over your lives. You didn’t even have a bank account!” 

“Because I didn’t need one!” Paul exclaimed. “You don’t understand. Maybe having a bank account is normal for people like you, but I didn’t grow up like that. We barely made ends meet. We moved from council flat to council flat -- wherever my mum was stationed as a nurse. She made the money. Maybe me mum and and me dad had a bank account, I don’t know. We didn’t discuss those things.” He drew in a sharp breath. “When she died all we had was my dad’s fourteen quid a weel. I made more than him when we went off the Hamburg the first time. Having a bank account wasn’t something that occurred to me because what was the fuss over bothering? Whenever there was money to be spared there were bills to pay, and what little pocket money I managed to save John and Stu would skive off me. They never paid me back, either, the bloody wankers. Then John goes on the telly and talks up how he’s bloody working class. His uncle is a bloody dentist.” He shook his head. “I don’t know anything about how this stuff works, okay? Maybe he did take advantage of me, but how was I meant to know? How were any of us meant to know?” 

Linda had leveled John with a pointed glare, which did nothing to assuage the guilt he felt. He felt that he had a point with the comments he’d made, but it was possible he’d been too cruel. He’d forgotten that things that he’d grown up with, that he’d viewed as simple, common sense, weren’t always second nature for people. 

“I’m not--I understand why you wouldn’t have had a bank account,” he forced himself to say. “What I don’t understand is why you weren’t walked through all of these things before now. Haven’t you any idea what your financial standing is?” 

Paul shrugged. “Brian tells us how much money we’ve got. It’s not that much, really.” 

“Brian is lying to you,” Linda told him, thankfully sparing everyone her reaction to John telling Paul this, though not before he gaped at him like he was a fish. “I read in the papers that you made enough money off  _ Yesterday _ that you could have retired two years ago and never needed to worry about money again.”

“What are you saying?” Paul asked her. “Are you saying that he’s having me on?” 

“If she’s not going to say it,” John informed him, and he shook his head. “I will.”

“I brought the contracts with me,” Paul said after a moment. “If you wanted to have a look.” 

“I think that I ought to,” he agreed. He touched Lulu on the shoulder. “Sweetheart, do you want to go sit with your aunt?” 

“Okay,” she agreed. She brushed a kiss to his cheek. “Can we go to the park?” 

“I don’t know,” he told her. “I have to look at some paperwork.” 

There was no way that John was going to be so reckless as to not devote quality time to undoing the mess that Linda’s new boyfriend had gotten himself into, even if it meant having to work on a Saturday afternoon. Typically, John did his best to leave his weekends free to spend time with his wife and daughter, but the last thing he wanted was Paul’s fleeting moment of clarity to escape. It was clear to him that he’d been manipulated. 

Paul and Linda exchanged a glance. “We can take her,” he offered. “Y’know, we were going to take Heather out to go to the big park, maybe ride a horse and carriage? I don’t mind if we take her cousin, too.” 

Heather popped her thumb out of her mouth. “I wanna ride the horsey ride!” 

“She means the carousel,” Linda elaborated. “We can ride the carousel, sure, sweetheart.”

“Right now, you’ve got to get off me,” Paul added. “I’m sorry, darling. I’ve got to get up to show your uncle something. You stay with Mama.” 

Heather whinged. “But I want to be with you!”

“Heather!” 

“It’s not fair,” she told him. “You’ve been sleeping for three days!” 

“I know I have been. I just need to hand him the things he needs to look at, and then I’ll be back, okay?”

“You promise that you’ll still have breakfast with me?” Heather whispered. “And that we can go to the park?” 

“Of course, I promise. I can’t wait. Honest.”

John watched in awe as Heather shifted from Paul’s lap to Linda’s without a further complaint. He had no idea what to make of the bond that his niece and her new father -- no, John corrected himself, her father -- had, but he was rather impressed with the fact that it was already existent. 

“I promise, Heather, I won’t keep him long,” he added, hoping his words would reassure his niece. “We’ll both be out for breakfast.”

Heather flashed him a smile. “Okay, if you promise.” 

“I do.” 

Paul ruffled her hair. “That’s a lass. Be good for your mum.” With that, Linda’s boyfriend pushed himself to a standing position. “Come on, let’s get the folder.” 

John had to admit that he found himself liking Paul, even if his grasp of the business aspect of being in his band and controlling his wealth seemed to escape him. He was at least willing to adapt to things like having a bank account, and letting people who had a general grasp of sense look over his fiscal and legal matters. The important thing was that he seemed to care for Heather and Linda. John could right the mess that Brian Epstein had managed to reduce The Beatles to, but he couldn’t change the fact that Heather had had quite the rough start to life. No matter how much he wished he could. 

Once they had left the sitting room and were away from the girls’ earshot, he drew in a deep breath. 

“I don’t want Heather getting hurt,” he told him. “Or Linda. If you’re wanting to be Heather’s father, it’s a big responsibility.” 

“You don’t think I realise that?” Paul asked him, a layer of hurt behind his words. John hadn’t meant to upset him, he just wanted to ensure that Heather wasn’t about to have her heart smashed to bits. “Look, John, I know that I’ve never been a dad before, but I’m aware of the level of responsibility it requires. I know that I’m going to be the father in her life, regardless of what she thinks about me,” he added. “Linda told me about the prick who got her pregnant. How he didn’t want her...or Heather. I can’t imagine not wanting my daughter, or my son. I don’t get people who are like that.”

“I didn’t think that you were,” he forced himself to admit. “I doubt that Linda would have brought you here if she didn’t think you were worthy of being in Heather’s life.” 

Paul shrugged. “She’s got a better opinion of me than I do. I don’t know what Heather’s going to think of me when she realises what I am. Who I am. What I do. It’s bound to happen eventually, even if we get a flat here...”

“I think that you should move to England.”

Paul glanced at him, exhaustion evident in his eyes. If John hadn’t known he’d spent the greater part of the last three days in bed, passed out, he would have assumed that he hadn’t had a solid night’s sleep in weeks. If not in months. 

“You reckon we should move to England?” He echoed. He scrubbed at the side of his face. “Why d’you reckon that?” 

“I think that they need to get away from here,” John admitted. “I know that being in England would have its own challenges, but I think that it would be better...especially for Heather. They need to get away from my dad.” 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought you were trying to be coy,” John stammered. “I didn’t realise that he was withholding your profits from you. I thought you were trying to seem cashpoor.” 
> 
> “I dunno what you’re talking about,” he said. “Why would you think I’ve got money?”
> 
> John sputtered. “Because, you do,” he insisted. “The industry papers claimed you’ve made enough off Yesterday to never record another album and still have millions of dollars...pounds. I mean pounds.” 

“I understand that,” Paul admitted, his tone low. Heather had already laid in wait for him once before, he certainly didn’t want her to do it again and overhear what they were talking about. “You have to understand, though, I don’t necessarily know that moving to England would be much of an improvement.” He lit up a cigarette, and took a quick drag. “The girls, y’know, the ones that hang round the house? They’re quite vicious. I don’t want Heather and Linda around them.” 

Linda’s brother let out a sigh. “Right, that’s where buying a property using a trust comes in,” he told him. “I know that you don’t know what that is.” 

“I don’t understand why I needed to buy property at all,” Paul told him. “I was doing fine living on Wimpole Street, but when Brian found out I was staying in a room there, he got all cheesed off about it. I don’t understand why,” he added. “It wasn’t like Jane and I were sharing a room.” He rolled his eyes. “He started ranting and raving about how important our image was and how it was up to me to maintain it.”

“By getting a house in the middle of London and inadvertently surrounding yourself with your questionably aged fans?” 

“Yeah,” Paul said with a shrug. “We’re meant to be available to them. Apparently it’s not proper to be married, or to shack up in the same house as your girlfriend, because what will people think? Never mind that that goes from something vaguely reasonable to telling John that he’s supposed to act as single even though his wife’s given birth to their son, and convincing him that it’s a good idea to go off on holiday to Spain.” He rolled his eyes. “I’d never do that. Any of it.” 

John had an expression on his face that eerily resembled John’s Aunt Mimi’s when he insisted that they were going to make it big as a band and that it was okay that he’d flunked out of art school, and that of his own father’s when he’d presented Brian’s contract to him back in 1962. It was vaguely disconcerting. 

“What?” He asked. “Have I said something wrong?”

“Your manager took one of you on a private vacation?” 

“Oh, come off it,” he told him. “Brian might be a queer but he’d never be into John like that.”

“Regardless of your manager’s sexual proclivities,” John said with a sigh. “It was at best questionable judgement on his part to do so. As a manager, he should be impartial, and he shouldn’t be involving himself in your personal lives.” 

“He’s a prick about that,” Paul muttered. “He wants people to ask him for his permission before they get married...before they get engaged, really. I wouldn’t bother with that. When I’m ready to marry Linda, I want it to be my choice, not his. He knows nothing about anything.” 

“You’re really thinking about marrying her?” 

Paul nodded. “Why wouldn’t I marry her?” He took a drag of the cigarette. “I love her, y’know? Her and young Heather. Why wouldn’t I want to marry them?” 

Paul loved Linda, and he loved Heather, but he was doubtful that Brian would love his decision to want to marry them. Not that Paul understood why that was. He thought that it was ridiculous that Brian had decided that their love lives were his decision. They’d never asked him to do that. Cleaning them up and putting them into suits, and telling them not to smoke on stage, whatever. He could live with that. What he couldn’t live with was the fact that Brian felt that it was acceptable to stick his nose in where it didn’t belong. 

He thought back to how absolutely ridiculous Brian had been when George and Pattie had wanted to get married, and his hand that wasn’t holding his lit cigarette curled into a fist. What had been so wrong with them wanting to get married? They’d already been living together, hadn’t they? Brian hadn’t had issue with Richie marrying Mo, and she was bloody aged nineteen. 

Paul hadn’t needed an adult’s permission when Dot had been pregnant and they’d been planning on getting married, and he’d been a bloody teenager. He certainly didn’t need an adult’s permission at aged twenty-five. 

“He tries to force us to do everything his way,” he told him. “It’s not fair--it’s bullshit. If I want to marry my girlfriend, I should be able to without him pitching an absolute fit. He’s not my father. I’ve got a father, and he controlled my life less than Brian does!”

He scowled. John had spent countless hours complaining that Paul’s father was too controlling of him because Jim had ridiculous ideas for his children, like wanting them to pass their A-levels, or marry their girlfriends whom they’d gotten pregnant, or wanting his children to be able to support themselves and not chase pointless dreams, but Paul didn’t think he was that awful a father. He thought that his dad cared. No, he wasn’t going to go around swatting Heather when she did something that wasn’t on, but he didn’t think that his dad had been horrible when he had. Paul had not been a very well behaved child. 

But John had complained -- John had complained almost constantly about Paul’s dad -- and yet he’d never given a single complaint about what Brian told them to do. 

He drew in a deep breath, and approached his luggage. Linda had placed them in in the wardrobe when they’d arrived in New York, and he’d barely touched them. There hadn’t been any need to.

The file folder containing the various contracts and other information was on top of his travel bag, and he brandished it in John’s direction. 

“Here,” he told him. “You can look at it, if you want to. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather be with me girls.” 

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” John insisted. 

“You weren’t the one who upset me,” he muttered. “It upsets me to realise I had more control over my life when I was seventeen than I do as a bleeding proper adult.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Paul shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about what had happened between him and Dot -- how he’d thought that he was going to be a father and how he’d been terrified but he’d been willing to commit to her and their child, regardless of how he felt about being a father at aged seventeen -- they’d lost the baby and he’d treated Dot terribly so he’d lost her, but it was still inappropriate to talk about what had happened. It wasn’t anyone’s business, anyways. Thinking about it only hurt him.

“Nothing,” he lied. “Just saying, I never asked for any of this.” Another drag of the cigarette. “It’s horseshit. I never asked for the birds hanging round the place, I never asked to be famous. I just wanted to be good, y’know? We wanted to make it big, but I never thought it would be like this. It stopped being fun.” 

“You could always stop?” Linda’s brother suggested. “I mean, why don’t you, if you hate it so much?”

“I haven’t got any money.”

John gaped at him. “What are you  _ talking _ about?” 

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” Paul insisted. “Brian gives us our weekly pay, and that’s all we get. We’ve got to go through NEMS for everything else.” 

“I thought you were trying to be coy,” John stammered. “I didn’t realise that he was withholding your profits from you. I thought you were trying to seem cashpoor.” 

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” he said. “Why would you think I’ve got money?”

John sputtered. “Because, you do,” he insisted. “The industry papers claimed you’ve made enough off  _ Yesterday _ to never record another album and still have millions of dollars...pounds. I mean pounds.” 

“Come off it,” Paul said. “Don’t be daft. Millions of pounds off  _ Yesterday _ ? No one even bloody liked it. They all thought I was taking the piss when I wanted to record it.” He pulled a face. “You should have heard all the horrible things John said to me about it. It was an embarrassment. The only reason it was a single at all was because we can’t control Capitol.” 

“The only reason it wasn’t released as a single was because they didn’t want you getting any attention,” he retorted.

“That’s not true,” he protested, though rather hesitantly. It wasn’t true, was it? They hadn’t released  _ Yesterday _ as a single because they were a family, hadn’t they? They were brothers! “We couldn’t release it because it wasn’t from the band,” he told him. “It was only me, y’know, and it was a rubbish song.” 

Paul hadn’t thought that  _ Yesterday _ was rubbish, far from it, but the other lads had been downright embarrassed by it. EMI’s suggestion that they release it as a single had been vetoed by an incredulous Brian, who had insisted that the song wasn’t reflective of their standards as a band. As compared to what? Paul had been willing to go along with Brian at the time, but he was growing annoyed by the fact that he had. It wasn’t like John had put any bloody effort into recording a proper song -- lately he had been less responsive to Paul than ever. It had been like pulling teeth to get him to contribute to Sgt. Pepper. 

When he had contributed, it was songs that were clearly dedicated towards drugs, or mocking how Paul’s friends had died in the form of verse. Paul had held his tongue, rationalising that at least John was working, but the song had truly miffed him. Not only had Tara died, John had seemed to relish mocking his death in the form of song. 

John had opened the file that Paul had handed him while he was inwardly seething, and the expression on his face did nothing to soothe Paul’s fragile equilibrium. He was already on edge because he wasn’t doing cocaine anymore, and John’s expression had gone from neutral, to that of his fathers, to that of Mimi’s when she’d found out that Cyn was up the duff. It wasn’t a progression that comforted him very much. 

“What is it?” Paul dared to ask. “You look like my dad did after Mike and I swam in the pool of lye.” 

“You didn’t sign this, did you?” John demanded. “The new contract?”

Paul shook his head. “No, I haven’t done anything with it yet,” he said. He shrugged. “I forgot I had to sign it, honestly, and Linda said that I ought to show it to you before I did anything with it. The old one’s not up yet, anyways. I didn’t want to be too hasty.” 

“I don’t want you signing this at all,” he told him. “You’re being robbed. This contract says that Brian will get twenty five percent of all profits of your material, regardless of whether or not he’s actually your manager.”

“Are you having me on?” Paul felt like he might faint. “He’s bloody taking the piss -- twenty five percent? Indefinitely? Even if we decide it’s bollocks to him?” 

“That’s what this says,” he brandished the document in his direction. “I have to… I can’t let you go through with this.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Dada’s back!” Heather crowed excitedly, directly in Linda’s ear, and she managed to hold back her wince of pain. Heather had been quite loud, and her shriek of joy had directly affected Linda’s eardrum. “Mama, I wanna say hi!”

“Sure, sweetie, of course you can say hi to Dada,” she said, gently encouraging her. She offered Paul a smile, though her happy expression quickly turned to one of concern when she saw the expression on her boyfriend’s face. He looked rather miserable. “I mean, that’s okay, right, Paul? If Heather says hi to you?” 

Linda didn’t know what John had spoken to Paul about, but if he’d scared him away with his comments, she’d never forgive him.

Much to her relief, Paul offered them a small smile in response to her question. “Yeah,” he told her. “Heather can say hi to me.” 

“Dada should sit with us!” Heather insisted. “Sit with Mama and me and Lulu!”

Paul crossed the room to where they were sat, and he scooped Heather up into his arms. Linda watched as he gave their girl a kiss on the cheek. “I dunno, koala, isn’t brekky going to be ready soon?” 

Heather shook her head. “No, I don’t wanna eat,” she said. “I wanna be like you.” 

She shot him a warning look, which went unnoticed by Heather. “Dada’s going to have breakfast,” she told her. “It’s important for both of you to eat.” 

“I told you, Heather,” Paul added. “Your auntie and Mama worked hard on brekky, we have to have some of it. It would be rude not to.” She watched him nuzzle her nose. Heather treated him to a squeal. “I haven’t had yank brekky in ages, y’know, and never a properly done up one.”

“Why haven’t you?” Heather asked him. “Don’t you have food in England?” 

“Sure, we’ve got food,” Paul agreed. “Mama cooked for me when she was visiting, y’know, but we don’t have the same foods you do here.” 

Her little girl’s eyes widened. “None of the same foods at all?” 

“Well, I don’t know what you eat here,” he admitted. Linda noticed the tips of his ears had reddened. “And, y’know, without your mum there, I don’t eat a lot of food. I usually only order a takeaway when I’m working.” 

“Dada!” Heather exclaimed. “Doesn’t your tummy rumble?” 

“Yes, Dada,” Linda interjected, her hand gravitating towards her abdomen as she pulled herself to a stand. “Doesn’t your tummy rumble?” 

All Linda knew was that she was very much late for her period, which was shockingly regular. It had been late only once before, and Paul was holding the result of that occurrence in his arms. She hoped that she was pregnant. She wanted to have a baby with him. She didn’t want to bring it up in her brother’s front parlour, however. That wasn’t very romantic. 

“Come meet your uncle Paul,” she encouraged Lulu, who was still sat on the couch. “He’s going to be staying here for a while.” 

“With you and Hettie?” Lulu asked. 

“Yeah, with me and Hettie,” she agreed. “He needs some time away from England, so your parents said he could stay with us.” 

“My Dada!” Heather informed her cousin. “Say hi to him!”

“Hullo, Lulu.” Paul made the first move. He knelt down so that he was eye level with her -- Heather snugly in his arms -- and he offered her a grin. Linda felt like she was going to melt. “How old are you?” 

Lulu held up two fingers. 

“Are you two?” Paul asked. She nodded. “Cor, blimey, that’s brill. I’ve got a birthday coming up, you know? How old do you think I’ll be?” 

“I dunno,” Lulu told him. “Five hundred?” 

He chuckled. “No, not that old,” he told her. “I’ll be twenty five.” 

“We should bake Dada a cake!” Heather told her. “Can we? I can help!”

Linda nodded. “Of course you can help me,” she assured her. She ran her fingers through Heather’s hair. “Aren’t you so sweet, wanting to make a cake for your dad?” Lulu tugged on her hand. “What is it, sweetie?” 

“Can I help too?” 

“Of course you can. Are you excited for the park today?” 

Lulu nodded. “I wanna ride a carriage!”

“I think that we can do that,” she told her. “Have you ever been on a horse and carriage ride, honey?” 

Paul shook his head. “No, I’ve been to Central Park, but we didn’t ride any carriages.” 

“Mama, I want an elephant ear,” Heather interjected. “Please?”

“She wants to eat an elephant’s ear?” Paul’s eyes were wide. 

“No, an elephant’s ear is fried dough,” she told him. “It’s a dessert. It’s good. We should have some.” 

“Baby, we can have whatever you two want,” he told her. “And if Lulu wants something different, we can have that too.” 

“Lulu! Hettie!” Jodie called from the kitchen. “Come help me set the table!”

Paul carefully lowered Heather to the floor. “Go on,” he told her. “I’ll come along. I promise.” 

Linda watched as Heather and Louise held hands as they left the room, a smile blooming on her lips. She admired how good Paul had been with both of the girls, even though he hadn’t had to be so kind and accepting to her niece. He had been. It was nice. It was clear to her that Paul was somewhat of a natural with children. 

“Hey,” he commented, and he playfully nudged her side. “Are you all right?” 

“Of course I am,” she told him. “Why do you ask?” 

“You’ve been touching your stomach ever since I woke up,” he told her. “You were so sick the other day on the plane,” he added. “I just wanted to make sure you were feeling okay.” 

With that question having been asked, all of Linda’s thoughts of telling Paul when they had a moment alone at the park went out the window. If he was concerned about her, she wanted to do her best to assuage his fears. There was nothing to be worried about, anyways. 

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I just...I think that I’m pregnant.” 

“You think you’re pregnant?” Paul echoed. His eyes were wide. “Lin, really?” 

She managed to nod. “Yeah, I am, is that okay?” 

His hands reached down to cover hers. “Yeah, Lin, It’s more than okay. I think it’s bloody brilliant. I meant what I said, y’know? That I wanted to have a baby with you.” Paul slowly lowered himself down so that he was properly level with her tummy. “Hullo, darling,” he purred, his tone low. “I know that you’re making yourself at home in your mama, but I want you to treat her gently, y’know? She’s growing you and that’s a big job.” She felt him nuzzle the area around her navel. “Yeah. I know you want to be good to Mama. You’re new. It’s okay that you’re still learning.” 

She reached her hand out and ran her fingers through his hair. “You like talking to them?” Linda had no idea what she was having, but as long as the baby was healthy, she really didn’t care. She was sure Heather would be okay with either a brother or a sister. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I really do. I’ve never experienced any of this before, y’know.” 

“Neither have I,” she admitted. She didn’t want to make Paul sad, but it was the truth. 

“None of it?” Paul frowned. “Lin, I…”

“John felt Heather kick a couple of times,” she told him. “But, it was awkward. He didn’t mean for it to be,” she added, having seen the look of hurt in Paul’s eyes. “You have to understand, Paul. John did more for me and more for Heather than I could ever repay him for. He didn’t have to take us in after Dad and Monique kicked me out, but, he did, and he’s let us stay. He hasn’t said a damn thing about me being a photographer, even though I know he doesn’t understand it, and I know that it makes my dad angry. That means more to me than what he didn’t do.” 

“I want to take you home with me,” he whispered. Linda had never heard such conviction in his tone. “But I want to do it properly, like, y’know? I want you to be my missus, and Heather our child. I don’t want either of you to have to worry about any of the things that you’ve been worrying about, so I want to do it right,” he said. “I want to bring my family out, so you can meet them, and I want to make you my bride. Hopefully your brother’s able to undo this horrid nightmare I’ve found myself in.” 

“What happened?” Linda couldn’t help but ask. “Can you tell me?” 

“That’s wanker’s decided that it’s suitable to have twenty five percent of all of our earnings -- regardless of whether or not he’s still managing us. I hope your brother ends him.”

“Paul!” Linda chastised. “What do you mean, you hope John ends him?” She crossed her arms. “You can’t seriously be advocating violence?” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he told her. “I meant, y’know, he could sue him, couldn’t he? Or could he just take me on as his client? I can’t believe that Brian would do this,” he continued. “How the hell am I meant to keep on working with him when he’s stolen money from me? When he’s manipulated us into doing things his way because he doesn’t think that we know any better?” 

Linda managed to refrain from pointing out that Paul did not in fact know any better, mainly because she could tell that he knew that that was the reason that they’d been taken advantage of. He didn’t really need her rubbing it in. 

He drew in a deep breath. “Then your brother tells me that I’ve made millions of pounds off Yesterday! Brian told me that it was a flop. That it had done terribly in the charts, and that Capitol had threatened to drop us!” 

“Brian lied to you.”

“What do you mean?”

Linda tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t you get it?” She asked him. “Brian finds you all easier to control when you’re a complete entity, without any sort of individuality. Why would he have told you that Yesterday had done well as a single? That was your song, not anyone else’s. You did that on your own.” 

“Everyone else hated it,” he muttered. “I don’t know why. It wasn’t like I’d dragged in a bloody sitar.” 

“Not everyone hated it, you know. I happen to like it.”

Paul blushed. “Do you mean that?” 

“Yeah, of course, I mean it,” she assured him, and she let him take her into his arms, pleased to be sandwiched into a bear hug. Linda was equally pleased that Paul had showered. “I like what you write,” she told him. “I would never...I wouldn’t have done that.” 

“Yeah, well, right now, I’m fed up with the lot of them.” 

“Why?” 

He shook his head. “I dunno, Lin, I’m just angry about this whole bloody mess of a contract, and how Brian took advantage of me because he reckons I’m too stupid to do much more than blindly trust him, and would you look at that, it’s not that he’s wrong. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have just gone off and signed it.” 

“That doesn’t make you a bad person,” she whispered. She pressed his ear to her chest. His hand went up into her hair. “That means that you were trusting, Paul. It’s not wrong to want the best of people.” 

She heard him heave a heavy sigh. “That’s not entirely true,” he said after a moment. 

“What’s not entirely true?” 

“I’ve never fully trusted Brian to properly have a handle on our finances,” he admitted. His tone was low. “I mean, to an extent, yeah, I reckon I trusted him. He was certainly a better choice than us handling them on our own. Ringo barely understands the concept of a week’s pay.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I just...there was always something there that I didn’t get. Something wrong, but not enough to overly alarm me, y’know? I just...maybe I should have asked.”

“Or maybe you shouldn’t have had to ask, because as a manager, he should have been doing his job properly,” Linda suggested. “I mean, it’s unfair to expect the four of you to stand up against him when he’s not being transparent, and he’s portraying himself as your friend. That’s the problem, really. He’s willfully misinterpreting your relationship, and that really isn’t fair.” 

“What isn’t fair is that he’s trying to bloody control my life,” Paul whispered. He nuzzled her forehead. “I want to marry you, Lin, and I want to do this whole thing properly.” She let her take her hands in his, as she wondered what he was getting at. “I know that we ought to have done this in the proper order, but I want to marry you, and I want to do it before the baby comes.” 

Linda gaped at him. “Is that really what you want?” 

He nodded. “I want to marry you, and I want to adopt Heather, to make you both McCartneys. If she wants to be, I mean.” 

“Of course I want to, Paul,” she whispered. She did her best to hide her surprise. “I know that you said that you wanted to make a baby together, but I didn’t think that you actually meant it,” she admitted. “I thought that you were just saying that because you didn’t want to use a condom.” She worried her lower lip. “You’re really okay with this?”

Paul reached his hand out so that it touched her abdomen. “Yeah, Lin, I’m okay with it.” He licked his lips. “I meant what I said, about wanting a baby with you. I want to be a dad, y’know, and I want you to be the woman I have my children with. Heather’s a brilliant lass, and I want her to be my daughter, like, legitimately and stuff.” He shook his head. “I dunno why your prick of an ex abandoned the two of you, because she’s a good girl. She deserves to be loved. So do you.” 

“You deserve that, too,” Linda told him. She wrapped her arms around him, shocked at how thin he was. Of course, Linda had noticed that Paul barely had any food at the house, and had seemed content to survive solely off cigarettes and cocaine before she’d arrived in London, but she hadn’t realised that he felt as if he hadn’t been eating at all. She frowned. “What happened?” 

“What do you mean, what happened?” Paul asked her. “With what?”   
  


“You’re so thin.” Linda furrowed her brow in concern. “Haven’t you noticed?” 

“I dunno what you’re getting at,” he told her. “Heather told me that, too, earlier. I told her I would have brekky with her to get her to feel better, but I’m not hungry. I’m fine.” 

“I can feel your ribs,” she pointed out. “That’s not healthy, Paul.”

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Heather,” he told her, and she gave him a confused look. “Heather, d’you like the drawings I sent you?” 
> 
> She nodded. “Mama put them up in my room,” she whispered, her words slow and careful. “She said that you care a lot about me.”
> 
> He nodded. “I do,” he promised her. “That’s why I coloured those pictures for you. Your mum told me that you liked animals.” 
> 
> He carefully lifted her up and into his arms, rewarded with a kiss on the cheek. Heather wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I do like animals!” She insisted. “Do you have any animals?” 

The truth was that Paul knew that he was entirely too thin, but he was rather loathe to admit that he knew. Part of him didn’t see what the big deal was, anyways. He was fine living off one meal a day. Hell, he was lucky when he remembered to eat at all. That didn’t mean that he wanted to get it in the ear from his girlfriend about his eating habits. He was fine. There was nothing that they needed to talk about. 

“If this is about brekky, Lin, I told Heather that I would eat with you,” he pointed out. “Even though I don’t need to eat breakfast, I’m willing to have the meal.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t understand what you’re worried about.” 

“I’m worried about you!” She exclaimed, though her tone was quiet. “Paul, this isn’t normal. What do you mean, even though you don’t need to eat breakfast?” 

“Well, it’s not like I’m usually up to eat it,” he told her. “I’m usually in bed until I have to head to the studio, and it’s not like I get hungry.”

“Right,” she drawled. “Because you’re using coke.” 

“I’m not doing that anymore!” Paul said in protest. “You said that I couldn’t, because it was bad for Heather to be around it.” 

“Yes, but that’s why you aren’t hungry,” she sighed. “The cocaine suppresses your appetite, so of course you don’t want to eat. It’s understandable, but it can’t keep happening. Having breakfast is normal, Paul, sleeping all hours of the day and eating takeout dinners at 2 am isn’t.” 

He lit up a smoke. “What’s wrong with having a takeaway?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with having one,” she told him. “It shouldn’t be your only meal.” 

“No one’s cared before.” 

“I find that hard to believe,” Linda sighed. “You mean to tell me that no one has called your eating habits into question besides me?” 

He shook his head. “You’re the only one, save for Heather.” 

“What about Jane?” 

“What about Jane?” Paul echoed. “What about Jane? Bollocks to Jane, if you ask me. I haven’t seen Jane in months, Linda, even before she ended things with me, she was never around. All she cared about was her bloody theatre tours, and it was like our house was a convenient place to switch out her bleeding wardrobe. Meanwhile I’m getting it in me bloody ear from my dad and her parents about how I ought to be making an honest woman out of her, like what, were they daft? She didn’t want anything to do with me.” 

“When she was around, I ate,” he added. “Jane would have the maid cook for us, and I would eat with her, and we would pretend to be a happy couple.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “It was all a farce, really. It had been for awhile.” 

“Why didn’t you just break up with her?” 

Paul shrugged. “It’s hard to break up with someone whose not ever home, isn’t it? We had an arrangement, anyways, at least, we did until it was suddenly unacceptable for me to hold up my end of it.” He pursed his lips. Even though he hadn’t loved Jane, it bothered him that she’d taken the coward’s way out and ended their relationship based on him taking another woman to bed. “Did she think that I didn’t know about the men that she met in the theatre?” He shook his head. “I guess it was unfair of me, to expect her to want what I wanted.” 

“Which is?” Linda shifted so that she was closer to him, and he wrapped his arm around her. “What is it that you want?” 

“This,” he whispered. He kissed the top of her head. “I want this, Lin, I want to be with someone who loves me, and who wants to have a family with me. I don’t just mean the baby, I mean we have an instant family already, with me, you and our girl.” 

“She’s certainly fond of you.” Linda gave him a gentle smile. “Just like her mama.” 

“You think so?” 

It wasn’t that Paul was nervous to be around Heather. Paul thought that Linda’s -- well, their, he supposed -- daughter was a real spitfire, and he was glad that she had taken to him as well as she had. He wasn’t nervous about her, or scared, or anything like that. Heather was Heather, and she was just as much a part of Linda and his relationship as he and she were. They came as a packaged deal, mum and daughter, and that was part of the attraction that Paul had felt to her, from the first time they’d met.

He wasn’t talking about the Bag o’ Nails, though the nightclub was certainly a convenient story to tell people who asked, people who cared. Paul didn’t much care for appearances, but he didn’t think that there was harm in having a bit of privacy. 

Linda had gone to their concert at Shea Stadium, and they’d met backstage, where Linda had taken some photographs of them, and the other people that Brian had insisted on inviting backstage. Paul hadn’t paid much mind to the others. He’d already known them, and he didn’t have much of an opinion on the subject of rudeness. The Yank bird, who’d gotten the passes that Nat Weiss had dropped on the desk of Eastman and Eastman, well, she’d caught his fancy. While Brian had been expecting an audience of a set of lawyers, and had been quite cross by the fact that he’d been met with a buxom blonde on the arm of a gentleman, Paul hadn’t minded. Frankly, he hadn’t known what Brian was thinking. 

Surely Brian had learnt over the years that making connections required a bit of finesse? Paul had hoped that he had, but he had been bitterly disappointed. 

Instead, he had watched Brian ineffectually attempt to use his wiles on Linda’s companion, though the other man had seemed quite oblivious. It had been rather amusing at the time. 

The fact that Brian had been putting the moves on Linda’s brother was a recent realisation that Paul quite enjoyed thinking of, though he knew that his feelings were quite petty. 

But it hadn’t been the right time. Linda had told him that she had a daughter waiting at home, and that she felt it would be irresponsible to mix business with pleasure. 

Paul hadn’t cared that Linda had a kid, not really, at least. It certainly hadn’t been a dealbreaker for him, and he’d gladly passed along his telephone number, and the address of his new home. It was just difficult. Linda lived in the States, and he lived in England. She couldn’t just up and leave her child for him. 

He wouldn’t have expected that, anyways. Even though he’d never been a dad, he knew that Heather had come first. She had to come first, otherwise he wouldn’t have wanted to have a relationship with Linda. 

So they’d what, written letters to each other, sent each other naughty postcards, had a few conversations over the phone, but Paul didn’t see the need for people to know that. They met at the Bag o’ Nails, and he’d taken her home to bed. She’d just never -- not really -- left. 

“She’s never seen my postcards, has she?” Paul murmured, his voice low, so low it was practically a growl. “Or any of my…” He trailed off, and his hands shifted from her abdomen up to her breasts, in order for him to cup them. Over the jumper, of course. Paul wasn’t keen on going too far in Linda’s brother’s parlour. “You didn’t show her any of my naughty artwork?” 

He gently pinched her nipples, and quickly covered her lips with his. “Now’s not the time to be cheeky, lass,” he chided, as he released her breasts, and settled his hands on her arse. “We’re in mixed company, I’ll have you know.” 

“Didn’t anyone teach you how to keep your hands to yourself?” Linda asked him. Her eyes sparkled. “I only showed her the ones that you sent for her.” 

“You showed them to her?” 

Linda nodded. “Of course I did, Paul, you told me to. Why did you think that I hadn’t?”

Paul was rather entirely mortified. 

“What did she think of them?” Paul felt his cheeks colour. It was true that he’d sent Heather drawings -- in fact, he’d worked quite hard on them -- but he hadn’t expected Linda to give them to her. It had just been something that he’d done to try to make her feel as if he’d included her daughter. “Did she like them?”

“Paul, of course she did,” Linda squeezed his fingers. “You made her feel special.” 

“Why did I do that?” 

“Because, Paul, she felt flattered,” she told him. “She felt included.” 

“I didn’t realise that they meant that much to her,” he whispered. He ducked his head to whisper in her ear. “Has she figured out who I am?” 

“Are you asking me if she knows what you do? Or if you’re Mummy’s friend Paul?” 

He kissed her. “I don’t give a bloody toss if she knows what I do,” he whispered. “Has she figured out that I’m your friend?” 

Linda smiled. “I think so,” she told him. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” 

“I can’t, Lin, she’s helping your sister-in-law--”

“No I isn’t,” Heather chimed in, her voice coming from directly behind him. Paul did his best to hide his shock. “It’s time for breakfast.” 

Heather grabbed ahold of his hand, seeming to not care that he was busy using it to touch her mum, and he reluctantly relinquished his hold on Linda’s bottom, in order to give her his full attention. He didn’t mind paying Heather attention, of course. She was his daughter, and he loved her so much already. He just wasn’t used to having a child. 

“Heather,” he told her, and she gave him a confused look. “Heather, d’you like the drawings I sent you?” 

She nodded. “Mama put them up in my room,” she whispered, her words slow and careful. “She said that you care a lot about me.”

He nodded. “I do,” he promised her. “That’s why I coloured those pictures for you. Your mum told me that you liked animals.” 

He carefully lifted her up and into his arms, rewarded with a kiss on the cheek. Heather wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I do like animals!” She insisted. “Do you have any animals?” 

“Yeah, I’ve got some,” he told her, as he tightened his hold on her. He didn’t want to drop her. “I have a dog, named Martha,” he said, as Heather gazed up at him with an intensity that he’d never before seen in a child. “And a cat, named Thisbe. On my farm, I’ve got all sorts of farm animals,” he continued. Heather was clearly interested in the topic, and he didn’t want to discourage her curiosity. “Sheep, pigs, goats,” he elaborated. “I had some rats, but they’ve gone away now. I was thinking maybe of getting a few horses. Do you like horses?” 

She nodded. “Mama took me on one a couple times.” 

“Do you think you’d like a horse of your own?” 

“A real horsie?” 

“Yeah, cub, a real horsie,” he whispered. “If that’s something you’re keen on, I’m sure that we could work something out.” He nuzzled her cheek. “You said something about breakfast?” 

Heather’s eyes widened. “Only if you want it,” she insisted. “You said that you don’t get hungry. I not understand why. Your tummy roared like a tiger earlier.” 

“I was only having a laugh,” he lied. “Of course I’m hungry, and of course I want brekky,” he told her. Paul was in fact angry that his body had betrayed him by making him hungry at all. What good was being a coke addict if all of the drug’s positive benefits went away mere days after he stopped? Now he was hungry, and he was being forced to eat. He hated that. “You want brekky, too, right?” 

Heather nodded. “Mama said it makes me big and strong,” she chirped. “I want to be big and strong like Mama.” 

“Well, of course, that’s why you eat breakfast,” he agreed. Heather could eat as much as she wanted, because she was a growing girl. Paul knew that, and he didn’t want her to stop eating for his sake. “Dada’s already a grownup, though, so things are different.” 

“Things are different?” Heather squinted at him. “You have to be big and strong too,” she declared. “When you have a roaring tummy, you gots to eat.”

“He’s going to eat,” Linda interjected. “He’s going to eat something, Heather, okay? It might not be as much as you’d like him to, but, he’s going to eat.” 

“Why not as much as I like him to?” 

“Because,” she whispered. “He’s still not feeling very well.”

Paul wanted to protest that he was feeling perfectly fine. He didn’t want to eat because he didn’t see the point of it. Food was something that he consumed solely out of obligation, and mainly in the presence of others. The thought of having three meals a day was nearly too much for him to bear. Still, there was no need to tell Heather that. It was none of the little girl’s concern. She was already staring at him with worried eyes. 

“I will eat,” he settled on. “I’ll eat as much as I can, but, your mum’s right. I haven’t been feeling very well lately, so I don’t want to eat too much. That might make me sick again, and I want to go with you to the park, y’know? I promised ye a ride on the carousel.” 

Paul had been on a carousel once. His mum had died, and he’d been ferried off to the seaside with one of his numerous cousins, and been encouraged to ride on the carousel with their child, rather than spend his days at the shore broodily playing music. He hadn’t wanted to. He’d wanted to be left alone, with his thoughts, and his guitar. He hadn’t wanted to be rude, though. 

Heather seemed pleased at the reminder that he’d promised to take her on the carousel, however, and he was willing to indulge their little cub. 

“I want to go on the carousel,” she agreed. “And the horsie carriage!”

“We can do whatever you and your cousin want,” he promised her. Heather’s expression of joy dimmed. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Does she have to come?” Heather mumbled. “I don’t want her to come!”

“Heather!” Linda protested. “Why don’t you want Lulu to come with us?” 

“She never lets me come with her!” Heather insisted, her voice loud in Paul’s ear. “I--she--I’m never allowed! Ever! Grandpa tooked her the whole last weekend, and I couldn’t go! It not fair.”

“That isn’t your cousin’s fault,” she informed her. “I’m sorry that that happened, but you can’t take your anger out at Louise.” 

“Grandpa Mean said I never allowed to go with them,” she whimpered, as she kicked her legs in protest. “Not ever! Just cos I don’t got a dad.”

“You’ve got a dad now,” Paul assured her. “You don’t have to listen to him say that about you, ever again.” 

“He say it all the time. Whenever Mama’s at work!”

Paul glanced over at Linda. “Look, your grandfather, he’s wrong,” he told Heather. “Mama works so hard for the two of you. She takes such brilliant photos, and I can’t wait for you to see the ones that she took when she was in England with me.” Heather sniffled. “I know that it’s hard for you to have to stay here when your mum’s gone, you must miss her, right?” 

Heather nodded. “I not like when she leaves!”

“Well, the good thing is that you won’t be left here when Mama works anymore,” he promised her. “We’re a family now, and I’m going to take care of you when Mama has to work, okay?” 

“You mean it?” Heather’s voice was incredibly small. “Dada?” 

He kissed her on the cheek. “Yeah, I mean it,” he whispered. “I promise.” He drew in a deep breath, and exhaled loudly. “My dad, he used to do the same thing with me and my younger brother. After my mum died, he’d send us out to whoever could take us, y’know? Sometimes we were together, other times we were apart. When they’d make us call on Dad, he’d be in bed the whole time, a pile of bottles beside him, crying his eyes out. It was horrible. I knew that he was doing what he had to do, but that didn’t make it any less painful. Dad...he thought that he was doing what was best. Like your mum does. You wouldn’t find going on photoshoots with her to be very fun, honest. I know that you miss her, though.” 

“Bottles?” Heather echoed. “Like for a baby?” 

He shook his head. “Not quite,” he hedged. “Have you given a baby a bottle before?” 

“Uh huh,” she nodded. “I gived them to Lulu.” 

“You like Lulu, don’t you?” She nodded, her gaze bashful. “That’s why I thought you’d like to go to the park with her. I’d like to get to know both of you. Just like I’ve never had a daughter before, I’ve also never had a niece.” 

“I didn’t know that,” she whispered. He watched as she stuck her thumb in her mouth. “I guess she can come.” Her voice was muffled, but he understood. 

“We’ve got loads of time to do things together, just us,” he promised. “You don’t have to worry about that.” 

“You promise?” Heather snuggled closer to him. “Dada? You promise?” 

“Of course, yeah, I promise.” 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Do you want to write a letter to your Daddy?” Ruth asked Martha, her tone curious. The sheepdog laid at her feet while she finished her homework, clearly willing to settle for her master’s sister as a substitute for him in his absence. Never mind that Paul didn’t consider Ruth to be his sister. She knew that she was, and Martha knew that she was. Paul was just being silly. At the mention of Martha’s daddy, the canine lifted her head. Her interest was clearly piqued. “I mean, I know that you can’t write,” she told her, as she rubbed the dog’s fur with her sock-covered foot. “I would write it for you.” 

Martha let out a happy sigh. Ruth decided to take it as an agreement. “I don’t know why he went to New York,” she informed her. “I think that you’re getting a new Mummy.” 

Martha had had a mummy before, of course, when Paul had been dating Jane, but Jane hadn’t been around for awhile. She hadn’t even bothered to tell Ruth that she wasn’t going to be around anymore, which made her sad. Even though Paul didn’t like being called her brother, he still told her where he was going, and when he was coming back. 

And, he trusted her -- explicitly -- with Martha. 

Martha seemed to like her, at least, and Ruth did her best to take good care of her. She didn’t want Martha to get hurt, or sick, and she definitely didn’t want Paul to get angry at her. Not when they’d been almost getting along lately. 

When Paul and Martha’s new mummy had driven down to the Wirral to drop Thisbe and Martha off, Ruth had been surprised when Paul had picked her up into his arms, and she had been rendered speechless when he had introduced her to his new girlfriend as his baby sister. 

Paul liked Ruth -- to an extent -- but he seemed content to shy away from giving their relationship a name, even though Ruth had done her best to remind him that he was her big brother. She knew that grownups forgot things sometimes, and Paul was so busy! Maybe he’d forgotten that she was his sister? 

Whatever the reason, he’d seemed to remember when he was introducing her to his new girlfriend, though he’d done his best to pretend he didn’t remember Jane, when Ruth had demanded to know where the redhead had gone. 

Maybe Jane had died? Paul’s mum had died, and he didn’t often talk about her. It made sense that Jane might have died as well. 

But Ruth had asked Angie -- the Angie dating Mike, and not her Mum -- if Jane had died, and the older woman had dissolved into hysterical laughter, and told Ruth several things about her big brother that Ruth thought were unkind at best, and most likely lies. Why would Angie have even thought of them? To be mean. 

Angie had said that Jane was gone because Paul was a terrible boyfriend. While Paul’s attentions as a brother had left a lot to be desired, Ruth had never thought he was bad at being a boyfriend! Whenever she was around one of his girlfriends, he had been on his best behaviour -- even going so far as to be nice to her, like he’d been before he’d become her brother. Jane was the one that Paul brought to see Mum and Dad, but Ruth had been introduced to the others, and done her best to keep them a secret from their parents, and from Mike, and from Jane herself. 

She hadn’t minded, really. Brothers and sisters looked out for each other. 

Ruth wondered if Jane had gotten mad about the toy that Paul had gotten when they went to the London Zoo, even though she thought it was a stupid thing to be mad about. Paul had taken her to the gift shop after they’d gone through the entire zoo twice, and he’d admitted to her that he wasn’t keen on leaving the zoo to go home. He and Jane had been rowing over something that she thought was so dumb -- whether or not they were going to have a baby. Ruth wanted to be an aunt. Paul would have to be nice to her, all the time, then, because he’d have to set a good example for the baby. 

She’d wanted Mum and Dad to have a baby, but they hadn’t given in to her wishes yet. That wasn’t fair. Paul and Mike might want a brother or sister that was actually theirs. 

She hadn’t brought that up when they were at the zoo. Ruth wanted to be a big sister, but she didn’t want Paul to get upset over it. 

When they’d been at the gift shop, he’d spotted a tiny stuffed animal, which Ruth identified as a polar bear. There had been a new baby polar bear born at the zoo, and they’d gotten to see the little creature. Paul had even lifted her up so she could see the family better. He’d explained to her that he wanted to buy to cuddly friend for his baby -- even though it had yet to exist. She’d thought that to be a sound idea. Ruth’s first dad had given her a teddy bear before he died. She slept with it every night. 

“Was that why they broke up, Martha?” She didn’t really expect Martha to answer. She knew that the sheepdog couldn’t talk. “I didn’t mean to make Jane mad at him.” 

Paul confused Ruth almost every day. But he was still her brother. Wasn’t he? 

Sure, Paul never admitted that they were brother or sister, but that didn’t really matter to her. Well it mattered, but when she’d brought it up, it had only made Paul mad, so Mum and Dad had told her not to. Paul was the one who allowed them to live in the house that they lived in, and he was the reason that they had any money at all, and if Ruth ruined that by insisting that she was his sister, they would be very angry with her. She thought that was dumb. If he was her brother, why did he pay for everything? Wasn’t that Dad’s job? 

So, the fact that he’d called her his baby sister was a source of confusion to her. 

She hadn’t been his sister in the four years since Dad had adopted her, and now he had given in? Why? There had to be a reason, and she hadn’t wanted to ask. She’d learnt that it was better not to ask Paul questions, especially if he’d managed the miracle of coming over in a decent mood. 

Mike was Ruth’s favourite brother, even though Paul gave them money and allowed them to live in the house that he’d bought. Mike lived with them, and he played with her. He didn’t make her feel like she was a bother. Was Ruth a bother? Maybe she was, and that was why Paul hated her. 

Paul had always insisted to her that she wasn’t the issue, that he didn’t care that his dad had adopted her, but that his problems were with her mum, but Ruth loved her mum. She didn’t understand why he didn’t. 

Maybe it was because he was a grown up. Ruth thought most grown ups were weird, and if Paul was a grown up, he was probably weird too. 

At least he’d let her watch Martha. That made her happy. 

  
  



End file.
